Red
by TeaDanceMacabre
Summary: This is the story about a girl pushed into the world of Gotham when the craziness is at its highest. She fits in just fine. Warning: Some chapters contain mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I thought people should know why I let Miss Fortune die (not literally). Well, I wanted more of a challenge. Their relationship wasn't enough - there had to be someone that could get under his skin and make him develop some twisted sort of feelings. So I wrote a novel-sized fanfic which I wasn't planning on posting but I thought I owed it to people who were annoyed that I'd just disappeared. The good news is it's already finished, so you'll get the whole story. I'm going to post two chapters a week and there are sixteen in total. Oh, by the way, some of the chapters contain mature content.

**Disclaimer:**_This fandom does not belong to me it's property of Chris Nolan and Warner Bros. and the guy that invented Batman in the first place etc. This disclaimer applies to all chapters in this series._

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My name is Scarlett. Well, that's my real name. Right now, I go by the name of Akako – Japanese for red. I grew up living in Gotham where my parents were at the top. It's my fault that we left. I'm paying for it every single day.

My mom, Relisys, is beautiful. It's a gypsy name, because that's what she is. Mom didn't have to change her name – she refused. She said it was disrespectful to her mother and she was proud to be gypsy. I'm proud of her too. The men don't leer after her anymore like they did in Gotham, now they just stare at her warily – she looks like a tramp to them. I don't care; I think she wears beautiful clothes. My favourite is her red velvet cardigan. It has short sleeves and displays all of her midriff. The front is covered in golden coins and beads that tinkle when she moves. She wears it with a matching red velvet head scarf and a long skirt made of rags of different brightly coloured material.

She has long brown hair and large eyes that draw people in. I took after her a lot. I'm small like her, only 5'1. I have dark brown, thick, wavy hair that falls just above my waist and the same large dark eyes. I don't dress like her though – I haven't had a gypsy's life and her clothes don't look as good on me as they do her. Besides, mom is adamant that I have to fit in here. I just wear normal dresses. Dad says we need to fly under the radar. I don't like him very much, although I know he puts me through hell for my own good. He wants me to lead a good life.

I'll tell you how it happened. We lived in Gotham until I was twelve. My mom danced for the men – to lure them in. When they were hooked on mom, dad got them hooked on his drugs too. The men always went home with empty wallets. My parents worked for the mob. We used to watch the news and laugh at it. Dad got me to point out mistakes that people had made that led to their murder. They weren't prepared or they were too trusting or too weak. Then he made me point out the good points that made the murderers and thieves get away with it. If they got caught, he'd ask me why. After weeks of this, I almost always got it right.

But I was young and foolish. I watched my successful father and beautiful mother at work and I wanted to join in so on my way home from school I didn't go straight home. I went to the Narrows. It was bleak and rough and had no edge of the glamour that my parents possessed. I knew it was stupid. I was off guard and had no weapons. I was unprepared. Knowing how furious my dad would be if I was captured from silly mistakes that I knew I was making, I left. I was twelve years old when it happened. Little did I know, I was being stalked in the shadows. The route I took home led me through many alley ways and though I thought I was being alert, the man followed a great distance behind me. He doubled round to the other end of the alleyway to head me off and it worked. He was a giant. Thankfully, that worked to my advantage. He grabbed me and hit me and I thought he was going to do something worse but I ducked under his arm and ran as fast as I could. Even he couldn't keep up.

When I got home with a black eye and told mom what happened she screamed at my father. She said it was his fault and Gotham couldn't teach me anything. My mom was tough, she told me stories of close escapes that she had as a gypsy. Learning to fight was easy and vital for her. Eventually, the decision was made that we'd move away from Gotham after the police raided our house. Thankfully, we escaped through the back door but things for the mob were getting worse and mom was frightened that I'd be put into care so we moved all the way to Japan.

My first week there was rough. Too rough.

**Monday**

Mom booked me into ballet classes. She made sure I was the best in the class. I'd be punished if I wasn't.

"Akako, how do you expect to be a good ballet dancer if you trip over your own feet?!" My ballet teacher would yell at me. "Try again. I will keep you here all night until you show me the perfect pirouette."

Mom would frown at me and check her watch. Sometimes, she'd leave me there for hours at a time. She was paying the teacher extra for one-on-one sessions to make sure I was ahead of all the other girls. It was true that when dancing in formation with everyone else I stood out more professionally than any of them b

ut when I was on my own with her, she tried to teach me more advanced things. Each time I fell or tripped my mom would scowl disappointedly and my teacher would look at me, sometimes with pity when she was teaching me extremely advanced things but usually with impatience.

"Get up you silly girl! How difficult can it be to do an Arabesque? Keep your leg straight and the other leg extended behind you at a right angle. That is NOT 90 degrees, Akako! Now hold your arms in a harmonious position so that your fingers are at the furthest possible distance from your toes." I had to stay like that for five minutes without mistake. Only one minute had passed. "How many times must I tell you that your shoulders must be held square to the line of direction?!"

Then I fell and she sighed irritably. My mom put her head in her hands. "I want you to practise this to perfection." The teacher told me. She handed my mom some cod-liver oil tablets and told her to make sure I have two in the morning and two at night.

Every Monday night I had to show Dad what I'd learnt in my private lessons. This was the part I always dreaded. I was expected to learn each new move by the end of the day and when I stumbled or couldn't hold my balance I would only get served porridge for my meals. I'd have to go to bed early, but I'd crawl under my bed and get out my torch and book. I read _Little Red Riding Hood_ every night and gaze at the picture of the wolves and the girl. When I was good and learnt my moves in a single session I could have a new dress or a book about wolves. I've learnt a lot about wolves.

**Tuesday**

Gymnastics and again the instructor was being paid for extra sessions. I preferred gymnastics far more than ballet. Ballet seemed tedious and pointless. I hated learning to keep my body in strange, painful positions for hours. Gymnastics was so much better and I improved quickly with each session. I had a male instructor who was incredibly helpful and friendly but he always pushed me harder. With him though, I didn't want to let him down. I often injured myself from straining my body too hard but, injury or not, my parent's forced me to continue.

"Your leap onto the second bar is beautiful Akako, but surely you can rotate your body three times instead of two?" After many bad landings I mastered it. "Incredible. You are an excellent student. Now, on your landing, I want you to turn your body 360 degrees whilst flipping twice."

It was exhausting work but being airborne, leaping and twirling gave me the adrenaline rush that I loved. I felt free. All the stress that built up throughout the week was dispersed in my movements. I could clear my mind and just focus on the movements of my body whilst always trying to improve my speed and fluidity.

Dad was much more pleased with my progress in gymnastics. My mother beamed at me proudly and I grinned back.

**Wednesday**

Perhaps equally as fun but far worse for tormenting my body were self-defence classes. The instructor was a large, burly man with a body mass of about five times mine. He got me in a sleeper hold. I was always used in demonstrations to the class.

"Now," He said to the class with his arm wrapped around my neck, "If an attacker gets you in this position, I'll be honest, your chances are pretty bleak. If you become deadweight – by taking your feet off the floor and making your body go limp – the attacker may not be able to hold you and I would recommend this first. If the attacker can hold you then try and unhook his feet with your own to make him stumble or try to use his arm to push your legs backwards, as high up as you can reach. Give it a try Akako."

I let my body drop but obviously he still clung to me. I tried to make him trip but he didn't move an inch. Gathering all my strength I pulled down hard on his arm and swung myself backwards so that my feet rammed his knees and bent them the wrong way so that he had to let go or risk breaking his legs. He dropped me but thanks to my other training I fell lightly on the floor and jumped back up quickly.

He laughed gruffly on the floor. "Very good. Aiming for the joints is always a good idea. Now, grab a partner and practise this yourselves."

I was always partnered with the teacher because no one else dared go against me. A fact that my father was incredibly proud of.

Showing my father this was sometimes worse than showing him my pitiful ballet moves. He always made me practise on himself. He also insisted on making it more realistic so when he put me in a sleeper hold he took it one step further by blocking off my oxygen supply. I mostly managed to escape but I fainted a few times.

**Thursday**

On Thursdays I had more strenuous fighting. I was lucky to be accepted into one of the few Ninjutsu training schools that taught about strength and stealth, how to be hidden, how to escape, how to block attacks with your arms and hands and also how to fight with weapons such as nunchucks and long knives.

Dad continually stressed that this was the most important. I learnt this until there was nothing more I could learn and I won every battle against the instructor. Then, Dad found me other people to fight against. He said I could always improve myself and that there were better fighters than my instructor out there.

I excelled at this, mainly because of Dad's fury if I didn't. He didn't care about the other training as much as he cared about this and if I lost a fight he'd find ways to make me pay.

**Friday**

Fridays were my absolute favourite days. Mom taught me how to dance like her and how to put on make up in the best way. She styled my hair and then made me style hers. She told me how to pick clothes that would make the most of my assets.

She taught me how to walk in a way that would grasp men's attention. How to always seem confident and in control like a dream that people couldn't grasp. She taught me how to allure people with my mysterious eyes and how to change my voice to trick people of my mood.

She taught me how to steal without getting caught and how to sneak without being heard. She taught me everything she knew.

Looking back, I wish I had seen why. I thought it was all punishment for making them move away from Gotham and getting myself in a stupid situation. I believed this for years. Even after my parents made me study law at weekends, I never guessed. When I got older, the pieces started slotting together.

I couldn't understand why I had to continue to train if they wanted me to become a lawyer. The more I got to know them the more I realised how much they hated abiding by the law. I knew there was a reason but I couldn't figure out what.

Sometimes, my Dad would bring home tramps and kill them, so that I knew what death looked like. When I got a bit older he made me kill them. Mom watched in the background and gave me a huge hug after I'd done it. She called me her little girl and told me how proud I made her.

That wasn't the only thing that changed as I grew older. Mom and dad finally agreed that ballet wasn't useful for me anymore. On my seventeenth birthday they cancelled my ballet lessons and enrolled me in parkour instead.

It even beat Friday's with my mom. It was risky, of course. Gymnastics was in a controlled environment where I knew I was always safe but parkour took place in the city. I attempted jumps from ridiculous heights and distances without hesitation and clambered up walls and over railings with ease. That wasn't without its accidents. I often came home bruised and bleeding. Once I split my head open and broke my leg. After that my Dad forced me to try the same stunt over and over again until I could do it with perfection. It was the most fun I had ever had because I was truly free to lose control. After I had finished studying law, Dad tutored me at weekends on Science, Maths and Weapons. He brought all kinds of strange devices home, half of them I couldn't figure out what they were meant to do.

After learning self-defence I was forced to fight my dad on Wednesday's instead. He didn't hesitate to injure me and once I found out his weaknesses so that I won the majority of fights we started fighting with weapons instead. Mom increased the amount of time where she taught me her methods of dancing and seducing, insistent that it was important I kept my femininity and that Dad had me doing too much sports.

I still read "Little Red Riding Hood" to myself at night. I imagined it was me running through the forest, jumping over branches and leaping from tree to tree. The wolf would never catch me.

This morning was my nineteenth birthday. I woke up groggily, my back aching from the previous night's gymnastics.

To make my mom happy, I got dressed up as I usually did. I had a shower then dried and curled my dark hair. I applied my face powder, eyeliner and mascara as usual – remembering to make sure my lipstick didn't clash with my chosen dress. It was a corset dress with a ruffled skirt that fell just above my knees. It was bright red – my favourite colour. I repainted my nails to hide any cracks in the polish and looked stunning walking down the stairs. No matter what she said, I always felt that she looked more beautiful.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." Mom cooed. She had tears in her eyes. She never usually broke down and seeing as this wasn't even an important birthday, she caught me off guard.

"Thanks mom… what's happened?" I asked.

Dad approached me and rested a heavy hand on my shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but mom interrupted him. "No! Not yet. She's just come downstairs. We can wait a little while longer. Please."

Dad nodded and sat at the kitchen table, followed by mom who motioned for me to sit down. A pile of steaming pancakes sat in the middle of the table and they helped themselves in silence. I didn't ask questions. This had happened on my seventeenth birthday when dad announced he was going to start bringing victims home.

"Your mom taught you a very important lesson. The fighting and agility lessons were for your protection. To really get somewhere you'll need to use everything your mother taught you. You would be surprised at how easily men… succumb to a woman's charm. They fall head over heels. They do almost anything."

At this mom smirked behind her cup of coffee. After breakfast, we went into the lounge where mom showed me my presents.

"Your father and I have bought you a house. It's very well hidden and I think you'll find it perfect. I know how much you loved that old fairy-tale so we bought you a small cottage in the forest. It was cheap because there are wolves nearby but I'm sure they won't get to you." Mom said carefully and showed me a picture.

It looked perfect. Mom had written a message below the picture. It said: Be who you want to be. Different people stand out against everyone. Live your dream with confidence.

I smiled at her and gave her a hug, setting the picture aside. When I pulled away she looked nervously at my Dad who shook his head and picked up another picture. "We also bought you a motorbike. It'll give you more freedom than a car will."

It was beautiful. It was a big, bright red Ducati. A Ducati Sport 1000 S to be precise. I opened the parcel next to it and it revealed a Red Riding Hood outfit. I laughed.

"Mom, what is this? Am I meant to wear this in my cottage and pretend to be Red Riding Hood?"

"Did you not read the message I wrote on the picture of your new home?" Mom asked, approaching the subject gingerly. This wasn't like her.

"Where is it mom?" I asked and from the look on her face, I had asked the right question. "We don't live anywhere near a forest. Is it on the other side of Japan or something?"

Mom looked away and remained silent. Dad pursed his lips and glanced at the picture of the house in front of me. I picked it up again and stared at it before realising that it opened like a booklet.

The first thing I noticed was that a plane ticket fell out. Not three plane tickets. Just one. The second thing I noticed was the address of the house. The paper fell out of my hands as I ran to the bathroom and managed to reach the toilet before I was sick.

Gotham.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why Gotham? Why now?" I asked, forgetting to use a poker face as mom always said. She hadn't before, so why should I now?

"Someone needs to run Gotham. The mob was in danger when we were part of it but we've been checking up on the news and with Falcone in charge, the mob is booming. We wanted you to be like us when you grew up and… now is the right time. We only brought you here so you could learn what we know – and more. You could be so valuable to the mob! The outfit… it's so we'd recognise you if we read any news about you. You'll have to use a nickname anyway… it'll get you noticed too. Please darling, this could be so good for you."

"Your mother is right. We are trying to give you a life of luxury like you deserve. You'll be in with the right crowd. It's what we wanted. The mob is just like a family, they treat you well and always watch your back."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "So why the hell are you staying here? If Gotham is so _great_ why don't you go? You think you can buy me off with a bike and cottage and clothes? Do you even care about me at all?"

"Of course we do darling! That is why we're doing this. For you! You'll go in with a clean slate, people will think of you as an independent woman instead of our daughter. We loved being a part of that, but we gave it up for you. With all the training you've had you could even become head of the crime family! Or something close. You'll make us proud."

"I won't be able to get in touch with you, you don't have a phone."

"We know that. That's why we gave you the outfit, we'll be able to see what you're up to." Dad answered coldly.

While he was saying this mom had got out a suitcase and was pulling it into my room to pack my things for me. I examined my ticket for the first time.

"TONIGHT?! You are getting rid of me on my birthday?! I can't believe this! What the hell is the rush? Do I even have a _choice_?"

"Darling… I know it's a shock. It's sudden… but surely you knew something was going on!"

"I thought you were training me to be an assassin…"

"We were. For Gotham."

"What is so good about Gotham?" I yelled. I was rapidly losing my temper.

"We grew up there. We were so attached to it… I won't hear a single bad word about that place do you understand? It's where you belong and that's that."

I just shook my head. I couldn't believe what was happening. They were sending me to somewhere I hadn't been in seven years, with no idea of how to get around. I didn't know anyone there anymore. I could hardly remember where I lived for the first twelve years of my life so how would I know where to go?

My dad came into the room silently and watched my mother pack. "You may not like the idea now. But when you've made a name for yourself and got to know people, you'll love it there. I know you will."

I put my poker face on, to manage my anger. I changed my voice to make it sound calm but deadly – like mom always used to teach me. "I want to pack myself."

They didn't dare to argue against me and left me to it after throwing an anxious glance at each other. I neatly folded my dresses and all the other nice things my mom had bought for me. While I was calmly gathering make-up and other belongings I kept thinking about how stupid this plan was. I had no money. I didn't know anyone there. I had no idea how to get around the city. Perhaps the problem bugging me most was the fact I didn't even have a passport.

I shook my head angrily to myself but continued to pack anyway. After a while I began to laugh. How stupid I was not to realise something like this was going to happen. I should have known I'd return to Gotham some day. Just the thought of that place made me hate it. The place we escaped from and the place I was being thrown back to. It was just my luck. Go to Japan to torture my body for a few years and then go back alone.

The last thing I packed was my "Little Red Riding Hood" book, my new outfit and my book about the mannerisms of wolves and how to understand them. At least I'd be surrounded by something familiar. Besides, it wasn't as though I had friends here. I didn't attend school and the people in my clubs were too afraid to talk to me anyway.

I zipped up the suitcase tightly and padlocked it. Mom entered the room again, slowly. I ignored her until she spoke herself.

"We will give you a lift to the airport. We need to leave really soon."

"I have no passport and no money."

This brought an evil smile to my mom's face. "You are my daughter. I taught you everything I know. You won't need them."

I had to give an excited laugh at this. She had a habit of making everything seem like an adventure. "So the mission is to get to Gotham with no money or passport. Got it."

She laughed too. Then her smile faltered and she looked at me sadly. "I'll miss you honey. What will I do without my little girl?"

"Don't do this mom, it's hard enough already."

She attempted a smile and blinked away her tears. "Sorry. Your dad will be so proud. He really will. Me too."

"I know."

"You know, you might not be a gypsy but you are a gypsy's daughter. It will come naturally to you. You'll be free, like you are meant to be and you really will have the time of your life."

"I'm all grown up now. Time to take on the world." I laughed. She beamed at me and my father spoke from behind me, making me jump.

"We need to go now. It'll be good."

"Already?" I asked. I didn't really have anything else I wanted to do but I would have preferred to put it off as much as possible.

"Come on."

Dad took my case downstairs and I clambered into the back of the car, watching Japan pass me by for the last time. It seemed to be only seconds until we arrived at the airport. Mom watched me flirting with the security guard to check I'd get through successfully. I saw her cross her fingers as I approached him.

"Passport?" He asked. I pretended to rummage through my bag.

"Oh no! I can't find it." I looked him straight in the eye as though he were the kindest and most gorgeous man I'd ever met. "It's really important I get on this flight, I don't have anywhere else to stay. You understand, don't you? You look like someone I can trust." As I said this I placed my hand lightly over his. He stared at it in alarm.

"Ahh… well… If someone finds out I'd get fired…"

"I won't tell anyone your name, I promise." I said, lowering my voice to a sultry tone. "It can be our little secret. I'm Akako by the way."

"I'm Hikaru." He replied, staring at me like a love sick puppy. I winked at him.

"Thanks so much Hikaru, you're a life saver."

He just nodded and gazed at me as I walked past. What a sucker, I never actually thought my mom's tips would work that well.

Mom and dad walked away and I walked along the maze of the airport until I found my plane. I queued up to sit on the plane and when I got on there was an hour delay before it actually set off. The man sat next to me was grumbling to himself throughout the whole journey. I just stared out if the window. I felt like my stomach had tied itself in knots. I was so nervous about going to Gotham. It felt weird going back to the place I'd grown up, I was leaving behind everything I knew and I couldn't train anymore – I just had to hope I was good enough.

I managed to get out of the airport and to a taxi without any problems but when I got into the front of the taxi I realised I had no idea where I was going.

"Where are you off to, love?"

"Uhh… Can you tell me the places I shouldn't go to avoid trouble? You know, where all the criminals hang out…"

"There's a path that leads off the main road and goes underground. That's where the homeless people live and there's a restaurant and bar that the mob go to. You don't want to go there, Falcone spends his nights there."

"Who is Falcone?" I asked curiously, the name seemed familiar.

"Head of the mob. You leave him alone, he's bad news." The driver warned.

I tried to hide my grin. "I see."

"So, where am I driving to?"

"That restaurant you were talking about. Oh, and one more thing, can you tell me how to get to the forest from there."

"Well, you follow the main road, it eventually leads you off to some abandoned buildings and the forest is up the hill, but I can't take you down there, love."

"Why not?" I asked, irritated.

"It's too dangerous for a pretty little girl like you. You'll be eaten alive!"

"Well, I'll be the judge of that. Just drive."

"But-" He began, but I interrupted him.

"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. I want you to take me down to that restaurant you were telling me about. You are a taxi driver. Your job is to drive people to where they tell you they want to go. I want to go there. So _drive_!" I demanded, my voice rising with anger.

He nodded silently and set off. He didn't speak after that, except to say sullenly, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

When he pulled up on the side he looked around shiftily and then held out his hand expectantly, waiting for money. I was too tired and nervous to talk my way out of it so I just grabbed his head and banged it against the steering wheel to knock him out. I was about to get up when I turned back towards the driver and thought it would be more sensible going into a mob bar with at least some money. I took his wallet and took everything he had from it – thirty dollars – and pulled my suitcase into the bar.

I sat down at a table for two and pulled my case underneath, making sure to keep it tightly in between my legs so that it wouldn't get stolen. I flipped my dark hair out of my face and looked around, making my expression curiously interested. A lot of people were staring and a waiter quickly came over to me.

"What can I get you?" He asked, hurriedly.

I took my time replying so I could scan the bar and the staff. "I'll have a vodka and lime."

He returned with it in seconds. I drummed my fingers on my case as I studied everyone's face. Sat in the far corner was an incredibly large, drunk man with his arms wrapped around two girls. I decided he didn't have the class to be the head of a family of crime.

In the other corner sat an Italian man in an expensive grey suit with a blonde woman fawning over him. On my left sat two policemen and on the table closest to me sat an older man with a cream suit and grey hair, sat opposite a younger man with a beard and greased back black hair and a brown leather jacket. He had a Russian accent.

In the corner behind me were a group of people with dark skin. The one that seemed to be in charge of the others had fixed a hard gaze on me. I looked away.

People kept glancing at me, especially the policemen who seemed rather nervous. I guessed they were corrupt so I stared straight back at them, until they looked away and whispered among themselves. I emptied my glass and the waiter came back as soon as it hit the table.

"Another?" He asked hopefully. I just nodded. He scurried back with it a minute later and vanished behind the bar again. I sipped this one slowly. The last thing I needed was to get drunk in a place filled with dangerous people.

The older man sat opposite the Russian guy leant across the table to speak to me. "I don't think I know you."

"No. You don't." I replied, purposely gazing into his eyes and looking interested.

"Sit." He ordered, gesturing the space next to the Russian man. Everyone in the bar went quiet and turned to look. Mom never did manage to successfully teach me not to blush and I felt my cheeks get warm as I took in the situation.

Everyone had stopped their conversations and had now turned to look at me. The policemen looked fearful. The grey haired man was watching for my next move. I smiled sweetly and lifted my suitcase over to his table, taking my drink with me.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked. Everyone was still silent. I shook my head, keeping my innocent smile in place. "What's your name?"

I hadn't decided on a name yet but it came to me naturally and I was instantly pleased with my decision. "It's Red."

He laughed. "What kind of a name is Red?"

"Not a real one." I replied steadily, holding his gaze. The Italian in the corner cocked his head and the Russian sat next to me stared with wide eyes and a curious smile. The guy in front of me nodded slowly, calculating.

"My name's Falcone. I own this place."

"It's nice." I replied, hiding the fact that I recognised his name. I continued to smile sweetly as I turned to the guy next to me. A few people had started talking again but the Italian was continuing to watch me to the annoyance of the blonde girl next to him and the dark skinned guy behind me continued to stare, fixated.

"Nice to meet you, Red. I'm the Chechen."

"Nice name." I responded. He smiled at me in a friendly way, which was a refreshing change.

"So, what brings you to Gotham?" Falcone asked. I hadn't thought of any answers so I just had to be vague and say whatever came into my head.

"I live here."

"And where abouts would that be?"

"I don't know. I haven't been there yet." I told him, tapping my suitcase.

"Hmm." He nodded again, slowly. "And what do you do for a living, Red?"

"Nothing yet."

"So…" He said, sitting back in his seat, "Fresh meat."

"Are you referring to me?" I asked, innocently. He didn't answer my question.

"So, are you toasting to your new beginning in Gotham?"

"I'm just finding my way around actually."

"And you came _here_ first?"

"The taxi driver recommended it."

"Who was he?" He asked, a slight streak of anger in his voice.

"I don't know." I replied calmly, turning to glance out of the window. "But he's still unconscious outside."

Once again the bar was filled with an ominous silence as Falcone raised his eyebrow and signalled for one of his men to check. The guy nodded and Falcone wore a stony expression. The Chechen looked impressed and the Italian in the corner looked at me confused. He couldn't understand me. It was rather amusing.

"Did you do that?"

"Well, I didn't wander around until I found someone kind enough to do it for me."

Falcone looked angry but the Chechen put his arm around me in a protective way. "I like her. She's good."

I grinned, forgetting to keep my composure. He seemed friendly but in a strangely fatherly way. It was nice.

"You're interesting." Falcone said. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen today." I answered honestly.

"Happy birthday." He replied with no friendliness in his voice, "A kid like you shouldn't be out here with all the big bad guys."

It was my turn to laugh dryly. "Or maybe they shouldn't be out here with me. What I lack in age I make up for with skill."

"What can a kid like you know? You're just a little girl."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think. Why not let me prove it?"

"Look kid, I don't want to be sending you to hospital on your birthday."

"Fine, one of your henchmen can instead." Everyone was staring. The large drunk man in the far corner was laughing and the policemen were shaking their heads. Falcone however, was staring at me seriously. Without taking his eyes off me he motioned for a man behind him to step forward.

"Watch my suitcase… and drink." I told the Chechen, who nodded curiously. "Outside?" I asked Falcone. He nodded and his henchman followed. Three other people followed him outside. The Chechen, carrying my suitcase and drink. The Italian man from the corner, leaving the blonde woman looking dejected and furious and the dark skinned man from the corner that had been fixing me with a hard stare all night.

"Who are they?" I asked, forcing myself to smile sweetly.

"That's Maroni." He said pointing to the Italian, then pointing at the other guy, "And that's Gambol. They're members of my little family so I'm sure you won't begrudge them watching your slightly ridiculous performance."

"Of course not." I replied, committing their names and faces to memory.

The henchman Falcone had selected was burly and rough. He was a heavy man with stubble on his chin and huge arms. However, it was more fat than muscle. I could tell he wasn't as strong as my dad. I grinned sickly, knowing he didn't stand a chance. I'd fought men much tougher than him before.

"Is this it?" I asked Falcone, who raised an eyebrow angrily.

"Okay." I told the man facing me. "Go."

He looked confused but when Falcone gave him the nod he charged after me. I ducked down at the last second so he tripped over me. He landed heavily on the ground and immediately grew furious at being humiliated.

He ran at me and wrapped his fat fingers around my neck inexpertly, leaving himself wide open for attack. In quick succession I jammed my heel hard into his knee, bending it backwards then punched him in the face. As he was getting back up I swung my leg around and kicked him hard in the face, knocking him out.

Maroni and Gambol were staring at me disbelievingly. The Chechen was looking utterly impressed and Falcone was staring steadily at me, realising I could be a threat.

"If you don't mind me saying, that guy was an idiot. You might want to hire someone that could actually protect you. That was possibly the most boring fight I've ever had." I said, and then walked over to the Chechen. "Would you like to take me home?"

He nodded silently and handed my drink to Gambol who looked angry at being treated like a servant.

I walked over to the taxi and pulled the unconscious driver from the front seat, leaving him lying on the concrete floor. Then I walked around to the passenger side and sat in, closing the door behind me. Falcone walked over and tapped on the window which I pulled down for him.

"How can a nineteen year old do that?"

"Through years of torture." I replied, closing the window again. The taxi door slammed as the Chechen got into the drivers seat and started the engine. "So, where do you live?"

"Uhh… The forest."

"You live in forest?" He asked, putting a cigar in his mouth and lighting it.

"Yeah… with the wolves." I laughed, feeling tipsy from the vodka.

His expression suggested that he obviously found that strange but he didn't mention it, instead he said, "What you want with Falcone?"

I turned to him seriously, deciding this was a man I could trust. "I want to join the mob."

He turned to look at me, then turned back to watch the road. "Why would you want to do that?"

"To have fun. To keep the crime rate high. To belong to people that like the same things as me."

We were silent for a moment as I watched the city go by, trying to remember directions. I shouted for him to stop when I noticed a mobile phone shop.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I need a phone. Stay close to the door, okay? Don't drive away." I waited for him to nod before I got out of the car. I could feel his curious gaze on my back. I looked around subtly, to check the street was empty and then studied the lock on the door. I routed in my bag for a screwdriver and a bobby pin. I checked the street once more then slotted the pin into the lock and rotated it with the screwdriver, it took a few minutes but I managed to break in. However, my movement set off the alarms so I had to be quick. I kicked the door to the storeroom open and glanced quickly at each of the phones, stopping when I found a glossy red one. I quickly grabbed a SIM card from the counter and ran back into the car.

"Drive!" I told him, and he sped off quickly, taking us away from the alarms. It was only minutes until he stopped the car again.

"Here's the forest." He said with his cigar still in his mouth. "You know where you're going?"

"Nope…" I answered truthfully.

"Do you need help?"

"No, I'll be okay."

He got out of the car and handed my suitcase to me, hesitating on the pavement. "You want to meet tomorrow?"

I turned to face him, beaming and nodded. "Meet me at the same place, same time." He told me, then got back into the car and drove away.


	3. Chapter 3

I stood there on the pavement alone. The night was colder than I expected but I decided I'd rather hurry to find my house than find a jacket from my suitcase so I walked up the hill towards the trees. The moon glowed brightly above me and as I entered the dark forest I didn't know whether to feel excited or frightened. I hoped I was in the right place. After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, I found a path. Realising how ironic it was I followed it cautiously. It wasn't long until I couldn't see anything beyond trees and I heard fearsome growling all around me. I stayed still, waiting for them to show themselves.

After a few moments I saw a pair of amber eyes fixed on me in the darkness. I guessed that this wolf was the Alpha so I knelt down and held out my hand for him to smell. The male wolf padded slowly towards me with a low growl in his throat. He stared at me when he was within touching distance, to see if I was going to make a sudden movement. When I slowly held my hand out further for him to sniff, he came closer and I could feel his cold nose against the palm of my hand. He took in my scent for what seemed like hours but was really only seconds. He moved a step away and lowered his head slightly. His pack moved in towards me but they were off-guard and trusted me. I breathed a sigh of relief. I sat there on the ground for a long time so they could get used to my scent and eventually I managed to stroke the Alpha.

I knew then that they wouldn't attack me so I stood up slowly and carried on through the woods, the wolves followed me for a short while and then the Alpha caught the scent of a smaller animal and they bounded off to hunt. After about another ten minutes I saw a small house in the distance and ran towards it, thankful that I'd found it. The path led straight to it but the wolves would probably cause any unwelcome guests to turn back.

The door was unlocked so I checked for intruders but there was no one there. The cottage was furnished with the basics – a bed, dining table, sofa, and fully functional kitchen and bathroom with hot water. It was relatively small: a small en-suite bathroom, connected to my bedroom, a living room that doubled up as a dining room and another room for the kitchen. Four rooms in total. However, my bedroom also led to a garage attached to the side of the cottage. It too was only small but contained my beautiful new bike. Next to it was a padlock so that no one would steal it if I left it unattended.

I searched the rest of the house and found the keys on the dining table – I locked the front door – and an Arai RX-7 GP helmet in a colour called Randy Red, some Sidi Vertigo Corsa motorbike boots in black and red and a matching black and red leather jacket and trousers in a wardrobe in the bedroom. I stood there in awe with my mouth open for ages, expecting them to disappear if I blinked or looked away.

I turned away eventually though, because after the stress of the day I was incredibly tired, it was hard to believe that only a few hours before I'd still been in Japan. I couldn't sleep yet, there were things that I wanted to do before I forgot. I took out my large pad of stick-its and walked into the cold garage after wrapping myself in a warm dressing gown. I sat on the concrete floor as hours passed without me noticing. I was dedicating each part of the garage wall to a particular person and I wanted to write notes on Falcone, the Chechen, Maroni and Gamble before I couldn't remember the day's events clearly.

It took me ages to write all my assumptions about them and their reactions to things that had happened and when I finally put my pen and sticky pad down I hadn't realised how tired I was. The sky was becoming lighter outside and the first morning-birds were beginning to chirp. I set an alarm on my new mobile phone and then got changed into some overly revealing pyjamas that my mom had bought me (she threw all my other pyjamas out, insisting that if they weren't sexy they were pointless) and climbed into bed. I instantly fell into a dream-filled sleep and didn't wake up until my irritating alarm rung.

_Beep. Beep. BEEP._

I groaned and rolled over onto my side to turn off the alarm. I lay in bed for a while, going over everything in my mind from the previous night. I thought I'd made a good impression, but maybe I should have waited for a few days before going back. It was too late to cancel now though, I didn't have the guy's number and if I failed to show up it would look awful.

I stepped out of bed and was instantly surrounded by the icy morning air that lingered in the room. Sighing, turned the radiators on and jumped into the shower, remaining in there until I was sure the house would have warmed up slightly. I shampooed my hair twice to make sure the scent would stick to my hair then conditioned it and turned the water off. I quickly grabbed a towel to wrap around myself and padded back into my bedroom to dry my hair after treating it with God knows how many serums.

I blasted it with my hair dryer and curled it to make it neater. I shouldn't have really bothered making the effort since I had decided to spend the afternoon riding around Gotham on my motorbike to learn my way around but it was a force of habit. I selected an incredibly short pair of shorts (the only clothes I had were promiscuous thanks to my mother) and a long, baggy casual t-shirt with a scoop-neckline. I added some bangles and a long necklace to the look then pulled my protective leather trousers and jacket over the top.

I walked into the garage and glanced around at the walls to remind myself of everything I had deduced last night. Luckily, the tailpiece at the back was hollow and could be removed to fit another person at the back but I decided to keep my heels inside instead. I was outside before I remembered I needed the padlock for my bike and my house keys. I grabbed both, putting them in a zip-pocket in my jacket.

The wolves had gathered around curiously, the Alpha fixing me with a stare. I knelt down again and held out my hand. He was much quicker and less cautious with approaching me this time but still took in my scent warily. Once he had I stroked behind his ear again and he bounded off with his pack closely following. I smiled to myself, thinking of my mom and dad as I climbed onto the bike that was like a monster in comparison to my height. I pulled my helmet carefully over my hair and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, purring as I tested the throttle whilst holding the brake down.

I let go of the brake and pulled the throttle back gently. The bike zoomed off so quickly that I only just managed to miss hitting a tree. I took one hand off the handlebar to pull the visor down on my helmet. It was only seconds before I was out of the forest and my stomach did a back flip as instead of following the path down the hill the bike became airborne. It happened as though in slow-motion so I landed it fairly easily and turned onto the road.

I spent a while driving in circles trying to form a mental map in my head. Gotham seemed to be a cluster of islands so I only went around the three main ones. A place called 'Wayne Towers' was at the centre of the city. I discovered that the underground tunnel I went to last night was connected Midtown and Downtown. It connected to a place called "The Narrows" which was apparently an extension of Arkham Asylum – a mental institution – so it was no wonder the taxi driver wasn't keen to take me down there.

I pulled up outside a huge library and walked inside, remembering to padlock my bike, and checked out the archives of newspapers. According to the newspapers, fires in the Narrows were common due to an Arkham inmate that wanted to rid nearby buildings of demons. I was relieved that my home didn't reside there. It wasn't long until I found what I was looking for – large pictures of the mobsters I had met last night. I wanted them to pin up with the notes in my garage. Taking out the pages I needed, I slipped them into an inside-pocket of my leather jacket without anyone noticing and left.

When I got outside, there was a group of young teenage boys hovering around my bike and muttering excitedly. I walked over and unlocked the padlock.

"Nice, isn't it?" I said, putting my helmet back on.

"Is this yours? You're a girl!" One of the boys that looked like he might be the leader said mockingly.

"So?"

"That's really cool." Another boy said, timidly. "Come on guys, let's go."

They walked away as I fired up my engine and sped away, the speed relating to my nervousness. There wasn't long left until I had to go and meet him – the sky was already turning black. Gotham was much larger than I'd expected and trying to find my way around had taken hours. I was on my way back home when I noticed a small butcher's store with an elderly man behind the counter. I stopped the bike and turned off the engine, remembering to lock it before leaving it. I went around the back and slowly turned his trashcans onto their side – silently – then walked back around to the front of the store and walked inside.

"Hi, I just thought I should let you know I heard someone lurking and crashing about behind your shop. I hope they weren't making any trouble."

The butcher groaned to himself, and picked up a huge knife. "Will you watch the store for me?"

"Of course." I smiled sweetly. I waited until he left the room before hopping over the counter which was much harder to do with heavy boots on. I grabbed a small plastic bag and filled it with a handful of raw meat then leapt back to the other side of the counter and fastened the bag in a knot and held it behind my back. A few minutes later the butcher returned.

"Was everything okay?" I asked in a friendly tone.

"Yeah. Just some punks vandalising the alleys again. Happens all the time. Gone though, of course. They never hang around long. Did you want anything?"

"Oh, no thanks. I just thought I should make sure everything I was okay. See you soon, perhaps." I replied and left the shop concealing the bag of meat in my hands. I shoved it into the back compartment of the bike, presuming that it wouldn't get too hot since it doubled up to be a spare seat, and went straight home.

I rode through the forest quickly, leaving my bike outside and unlocked – I doubted anyone would get so far in here. I unlocked the front door and walked back inside. Taking a variety of different brightly coloured cases into the bathroom I applied my make-up and curled my hair again. I checked my phone but it was only half-past seven so I had another two hours before I needed to be there.

I decided to unpack my suitcase to pass the time and make the house look cosier but stopped as I reached the outfit my mom had given me for my birthday. Stepping back into the bathroom I changed into it and gave myself a twirl. I smiled, realising how similar I actually looked to Red Riding Hood. Unable to resist the cliché I stepped outside of my cottage barefoot and got the raw meat out from the compartment in my bike. As I predicted it had stayed relatively cool.

I was then faced with the task of getting the wolves' attention. I didn't want to wander the forest looking for them because I didn't know how large it was so instead I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled loudly. It was followed by silence. After a few minutes I did it again and I was about to give up when I saw the familiar amber eyes in the darkness. Stepping aside from my bike, I tore open the bag and held it out to him. He came up and licked the meat timidly. After realising it smelt healthy he took the bag from my hands with his teeth and brought it to the rest of the pack. I was about to go back inside when the Alpha walked back over to me.

"I don't have any more." I told him, although I doubted he understood. Curiously, I bent down and stroked him behind his ear. He licked my hand then bounded off to eat with the rest of his pack. Grinning to myself, I walked back inside.

I pinned the pictures of Falcone, Maroni, the Chechen and Gambol to my wall and then wandered back into the bathroom to wash my hands and feet after being outside. I got changed back into my shorts and t-shirt and finished unpacking my suitcase. After checking my phone again I realised I had less than half an hour to go and felt my stomach writhe. I had twenty-one dollars left, which would hopefully be enough to by myself a few drinks. I was sure I could get someone there to buy me more if I ran out of money.

I took grabbed a purse from my handbag and rushed around to find things I thought I might need. Firstly, I packed my keys and padlock for my bike. Then I put in my money. I searched through my handbag from today and got out my screwdriver and bobby pins, some lip gloss and eyeliner and a compact mirror. Finally, I took the small knife off my bedside table and put that in – then zipped it shut.

It took me seconds to put my leathers back on and rev up my engine. I locked the door to my house although probably unnecessarily and sped off, reaching the underground tunnel in just a few minutes. I parked slightly away from the bar so I could take my leathers off and lock them in my compartment. As I did this I slipped my heels on and attached the padlock onto my bike. There was no room for my helmet so I'd have to take it in with me. I took one last look at myself in my compact mirror and then – taking a deep breath – walked into the bar.

To my relief, the Chechen spotted me straight away and hailed me over. He was sitting in a corner booth with Maroni. I walked towards him, swaying my hips in a way that was barely noticeable but still caught people's eye (a trick my mom taught me) and sat next to him.

"Nice to meet you." Maroni said with a small smile, before getting up and sitting in the booth behind me with Falcone.

"Hey." I said to the Chechen with a smile.

"What you want to drink?" He asked, returning the smile.

"Does he do cocktails?"

"You'll be lucky to find a place in Gotham that does good cocktails."

"Oh… I'll have gin and bitter lemon then."

"Hey!" The Chechen shouted to a scurrying waiter, "Get us gin and bitter lemon and a whiskey!"

The waiter nodded and returned quickly with the drinks so that he slopped a lot of the gin and lemon over his uniform. He turned a beetroot red and returned to the bar to pour himself a large scotch.

"So. I was thinking about what you said last night. You still want to?"

I simply nodded, aware that people were probably straining their ears to hear. From their point of view this probably looked like a date. My smile grew as I tried not to laugh at that thought.

The Chechen tossed a small, torn piece of paper with a name and number on it and I picked it up to examine it.

"We're having trouble with a customer. She got married and her husband is an idealist who frowns on her buying drugs. He won't be bought off so we need to get rid of him."

"So…" I said, quietening my voice. "You want me to find this guy and kill him?"

He nodded and motioned for me to drink. I took a large sip and the gin burned my throat but I ignored it.

"If you can do this for us then I have a proposition. I want you to work for me. If you do it, it's worth ten thousand dollars."

"He must be a pretty big problem if you'd pay me that much." I noticed.

"Not at all. Some of us have paid millions to have people taken out."

I worked on keeping my face steady as though the prospect of receiving millions of dollars simply for taking a life was normal. Really, I was thinking of the measly twenty-one dollars in my purse…

"I'll do it. Can you tell me anything about him?"

"He was Gambol's customer so you'll have to talk to him. Now, I have someone to meet. You call me later when it's done and I'll help you get rid of him. Here's my number." He said, handing me another piece of paper and draining the last of his whiskey before smiling at me and leaving.

I sipped my drink slowly for a moment, staring at the piece of paper with the man's name and number on it. His name was Allen Ford. The new Mrs Ford would be in for some heartache.

When my dad brought the victims home when we lived in Japan they were usually homeless and had no family. He once brought home someone that had a sister who was also homeless but my dad left her in the street. The guy was begging me to let him go because his sister would die without him but I killed him under my father's condemning stare. My dad stroked my hair and told me I had to learn not to think of the consequences because if I felt sympathy or compassion I'd lose. It was a lesson he taught me constantly, insisting that if he didn't banish all ounces of pity from me then it'd be me ending up at the bottom of a lake or out on the streets, rejected. It was a simple case of closing my mind or seeing the profitable side.

If I kill this man then I get thousands of dollars, I get to be part of the mob and get to prove how serious I am. His new wife gets to keep on taking her drugs and Gambol keeps making profit. This man's death can lead to a lot of good outcomes. I folded the piece of paper in one hand then grabbed my drink and helmet and swept over to Gambol's table.

"Do you mind if I join you?" I asked, staring directly into his eyes. He gave a smug smile and sat back in his seat.

"Go ahead."

I slipped into the seat opposite him and gave the guy next to him a polite smile, before turning back to Gambol and tossing the small piece of paper over.

"Can you tell me about him?" I asked. Gambol unfolded the paper slowly, looked at the name and then put it back on the table, ignoring it.

"You put up an impressive fight last night."

"Thanks." I replied with a sultry smile. His smugness upon me asking to sit with him told me everything I needed to know. He thought of himself as a lady charmer. I found it was best to keep these people interested by seeming available but not being available. His eyes moved over my body. I held back a laugh. If he thought he was going to get me in bed he was sadly mistaken.

"You come to Gotham alone?"

"Yeah. It's just me."

"I hope you're not lonely."

"The Chechen's good company." I replied, unable to help myself.

His smile faded and his eyes slightly narrowed for a second before he regained his composure.

"You'll find this guy by the docks. He looks like this…" He said, tossing me a black-and-white photograph of a fairly tall and lanky man in a black smock with a white dog's collar."

"A vicar?!"

"Keep your voice down."

I laughed lightly. "My first day in Gotham and you're sending me to hell, Gambol." I flirted, to get back in his good books. "Don't you like me?"

He gave a short laugh. "Don't worry. We'll all be joining you."

"What is he doing by the docks?"

"Ahh… he likes to look out for thugs and try to show them the error of their ways." Gambol grinned at the idiocy of it. "Tries to offer them help for drugs and hands out food and water."

"So, I'll have an audience?" I grinned darkly. "Are they going to interfere?"

"Interfere in the murder of the man that tries to take their drugs away? Hell, they'll probably join in."

I finished my drink and stood up to go but Gambol caught my wrist and pulled me back slightly. "Hold on, if you're going to be working for us then I want your number."

I groaned inwardly but placed a smile on my face as I checked my phone for my new number and let him type it into his own mobile.

"See you soon." He said, engaging conversation with the guy next to him. I grabbed my helmet and left the bar.

Outside there was a map of Gotham with a star saying 'You are HERE'. It was covered heavily in graffiti but I managed to work out the way to the docks. I got changed back into my leather clothes and was about to set off towards the docks whilst replying my parents' advice in my head when I remembered something my mom said.

_The outfit… it's so we'd recognise you if we read any news about you._

So I doubled back to get changed in something that would help me gain a reputation, although whether it would be a good or bad one I had no idea. Mom always said the reason she got accepted into the mob is because she dressed differently as a gypsy so she caught their eye. I hoped her idea would work for me in the same way…

I raced to my house to try and avoid wasting time. I dumped my bike on the ground outside and left it there. I routed through the wardrobe until I found it and slipped it on, carefully selecting a pair of sharp black heels. I was about to leave but I felt incomplete… I scanned my drawers.

Taking out an above-the-knee length sock that was striped black and pink and pulled it on my right leg, leaving my left leg plain. I drummed my fingers on my hip as I wondered what else the look needed. I tried various rings and necklaces but took them off, dissatisfied. A few minutes later, I found what I was looking for. A long, black fishnet glove. I pulled it on my left arm, leaving my right arm free. When I was satisfied that I looked a bit less like an innocent fourteen year-old I hopped back onto my bike, leaving my leathers and helmet in the house in case I need to make a quick escape.

I revved up my bike, feeling the heat on my legs and bracing myself to get burned. I tore through the streets of Gotham. When I arrived at the docks I found it fairly scarce. I parked and locked my bike by the entrance and ventured inside. Just as Gambol had told me, the priest was there talking to a homeless man that looked like he was trying not to listen. I walked up to him, my heart thudding.

"Hello, my sister." He said, with a warm smile. "Can I help you?"

I tried my best to block everything out, pretending that my dad was stood behind me, towering over me with his criticizing eyes. I kept the advantages I had thought of before firmly in my head.

"You seem like a decent guy so I'm going to be honest with you. God isn't on your side tonight." I began, moving towards him. I wished I had a gun, even though my father always told me they were cowardly weapons. Anyone could fire a gun. I just wanted it to be over quickly for him.

"What do you mean child?"

I reached for my purse, before remembering I had left it at home. I sighed and searched the floor for something sharp to slit his throat with. By my feet was a used syringe. I picked it up and pulled the plunger out, filling the barrel with air.

"Let me put it this way. God has decided it's time he met you."

"God… spoke to you, did he?"

"No. I don't believe in God. Hasn't he spoken to you?"

He started backing away but I approached him defiantly and stabbed his arm with the needle, releasing the air into his veins before I had chance to think about it.

"What-" He began but I saved him the time because he didn't have much left.

"Air."

He looked at me fearfully for a moment when I heard the man behind me yelp. A gang of drunken men had come up to him and started to cause a scene. When I turned back to the priest he was slumped on the floor – dead. I tossed the syringe into the water on the other side of the docks after taking a photo of the priest on my phone and sending it to the Chechen. When I got back to the homeless man he was muttering incomprehensibly as the group of brutes laughed at him.

"Look at 'er!" One of the men jeered. "She's dressed like a… fucking… what d'ya call it? Snow White or somethin'."

"That's not it Matt, you idiot, it's the one with the wolves." Another man retorted. Matt didn't seem to have heard.

"Fucking Snow White… You alright sexy? Want a hand?" He laughed as though he'd told the funniest joke in the world.

"Get lost, you creep." I replied.

"Oooooh." They cackled. "Feisty one, eh? Not going to give me a little kiss sweetheart?"

"Do you really want me to fight you?" I replied, to which they all coughed and spluttered over themselves with laughter.

"You gunna fight all five of us?" Matt slurred.

"Come here." I dared him. He looked around at his friends before stepping forward. As he got within touching distance I swept my arm towards his neck with my fingers stretched out so that I hit him with the side of my hand with as much force as I could be bothered with. He stumbled and fell to the floor, rubbing his neck.

"You stupid bitch!" He roared, getting to his feet and swaying dangerously. He aimed a pitiful punch at me but I caught his arm and twisted it backwards, increasing the pressure quickly until I heard the satisfying snap of a broken bone. Matt yelled in agony and slumped to the floor, cradling his arm. As his friends approached me I got ready to aim a kick at them but they stopped in their tracks to look at the sky. They began to back away until Matt shouted at them.

"Get 'er then! She's fucking crazy!"

I grabbed the head of the one closest to me and smashed it into the dumpster I was stood close to. His head split open and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Out of nowhere, a set of impossibly strong arms grabbed me from behind and restrained me. The men stood in front of me turned and ran, leaving Matt and their other friend slumped on the floor.

A let out a screech and jammed my sharp heels repeatedly into his leg. He must have been wearing some sort of armour because I'd worn my sharp, pointed heels especially and with the amount of pressure I applied they should have pierced the skin. He finally dropped me but I landed slickly on my feet and quickly spun around to face him.

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen. To think I had felt slightly silly coming out dressed as Red Riding Hood! He was dressed in all black flexible armour with a mask that resembled a bat.

"What the hell?!" I yelled in shock, jamming my hand hard into the only part of him I could reach – his jaw. I didn't hang around to fight this guy; I pushed my feet off the ground and ran in the opposite direction. I could sense him chasing me so I bent into a low crouch and leapt up onto one of the huge walk-in dumpsters.

When I turned around to see where he was I saw his hand holding onto the edge of the dumpster as though he was about to swing himself onto it. I turned to run again, leaping from dumpster to dumpster. My shoes clattered loudly against the metal, making me determined to increase my pace. Once I got close to the exit I bounded off and landed safely on my feet and raced towards my bike, quickly turning the key in the padlock and starting the ignition. A quick glance in my wing mirror told me he had just jumped off the dumpster – not landing quite so gracefully – and was quickly getting to his feet. Without anymore hesitation I pulled back the throttle and sped through the streets.

I took my hand gracefully off the left handle bar after I was satisfied I was a good distance away from whoever that strange man was and took my mobile phone out of a pouch in my dress. Glancing down quickly, I found the Chechen's number and called it, carefully turning a corner one-handed and holding the phone to my ear.

"Red! How did it go?" He said cheerfully. I responded, slightly out of breath.

"I was being chased by a man in a bat suit, where can I go? I need somewhere safe, I don't know if he's still following me and I don't want to lead him anywhere."

"Go to the Narrows and wait outside Arkham. I'll meet you there."

I returned my phone to my pouch whilst keeping my eyes on the road and trying to remember how to get to the Narrow's from here. I spent a bit of time following the wrong road before I remembered how to get there.

The scenery rushed past in a blur and twenty minutes later I pulled over outside Arkham. I hadn't even noticed how hot the engine was feeling against my legs until I got off the bike. The Chechen was already there and admired my outfit.

"You look good."

"Thanks." I grinned.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I killed the guy I was meant to and knocked out some drunks that were bothering me and then someone wearing armour put his arms around me to stop me fighting the other people and when I turned around he was dressed like a giant bat! His armour was too strong though so I hit him and ran and he was chasing me… he was really weird."

"A bat-man?" He asked with a humorous smile.

"Pretty much."

"Well… here you go." He said, handing me a leather bag filled with ten thousand dollars in cash. I grinned and thanked him.

I went back home, stopping on the way to stroke the wolves. I added much more depth to my notes about Maroni, Gambol and the Chechen. There was something warm about the Chechen that I loved, he felt like a father figure to me already. Maybe it was foolish to trust him so easily but whereas I hid and manipulated my emotions in front of the others naturally, with him I didn't feel the need to hide.

I stood barefoot in the garage, reading through the notes I'd stuck around pictures of each individual persons – each one having a space on the wall to themselves.

**Gambol:**

Easily angered

Bigheaded, thinks he's a pimp

Has a band of tough but clingy followers

Thinks I'll sleep with him (yeah right)

Will be hard to shake off…

**Maroni:**

Fairly polite

Sat with a blonde woman he paid no attention to…

Close to Falcone

**The Chechen:**

Trustworthy

Kind and polite

Offered me work instantly

Like a father…

One of the head guys

**Falcone:**

Head of the crime family!

Took me incredibly seriously

Patronising

Depends on his power of fear

Has goons to protect him

He has the cops on his side…

I was too worked up to sleep. The strange bat guy had freaked me out and I couldn't calm down. I padded into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. I looked pretty impressive dressed as this, it looked quite realistic. I was about to begin taking my make-up off.

A knock at the door made me stop dead. My blood ran cold. Who had found me?

I swept silently and quickly into the bedroom, opening my purse and taking my knife from it. Tip-toeing over to the door, I pressed my ear against it and listened hard. I couldn't hear any movement outside. I took a deep breath and opened my door a crack. I peeked out and still couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" I yelled boldly to the darkness. There was no reply. I put my fingers into my mouth and whistled loudly than I had before. A few moments later the wolves came bounding towards me. The Alpha moved forward to sniff at something by my feet that I hadn't noticed before.

A small velvet box lay on the ground by my door. I picked it up and opened it carefully. Inside was a dainty Tiffany bracelet. It was covered in diamonds and made of platinum and must have cost more than what I earned tonight. With it was a note.

_Congrats on your first job. – G_

I stood up, taking the ridiculously expensive bracelet with me and added one more note underneath Gambol's picture. "Jerk."


	4. Chapter 4

It went on like this for the rest of the week. Mostly I was hired to beat people up until they paid the Chechen what they owed him in drugs money. Gambol was becoming increasingly flirty and was proud to see I was wearing his bracelet – as though I was wearing it by choice.

I was sitting in once of Gotham's luxurious restaurants, apparently owned by Bruce Wayne. It was called the Ocelot and was filled with high class people that had reached the top of the social ladder and now had nothing better to do than to wear expensive pin-stripe suits or million-dollar pearl necklaces and meet at Gotham's most sophisticated places.

Luckily for me, the dress had been bought for me so I fit right in with my Aubergine coloured, satin, backless dress with a plunging neckline (no surprise there). However, the dress made me unable to ride my bike here. Needless to say I received a lot of confused and perverse stairs whilst walking under the tunnel towards the Narrows in a dress that cost hundreds of dollars.

Gambol was sat opposite me on the table for two, gazing at me instead of eating his lobster. He was grinning disgustingly whilst his eyes wandered towards my chest. I pretended not to notice and ate my pasta silently. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive… tall, dark and handsome, what more could a girl want? He was just so… typical. As far as I was concerned, all men were there same. The only way to tell them apart was by the colour of their hair or skin or eyes. Just so _boring_. So predictable.

I had guessed five things correctly so far. I guessed that he'd hold the door open for me, pretending to be a gentleman. The reason I knew it was an act was because I'd also guessed correctly that after following me through he'd rest his hand very low down on my back. Another two things I had guessed correctly was that when I looked at my food he'd look down my top and when I looked back at him he'd pretend he'd been looking at his food. The last thing I had guessed correctly was that when I got up to walk to the toilet he was staring at a point below my waist as I walked. The date was so predictable it was almost unbearable. I had to stop myself from screaming when I felt him rest his hand on my leg. The thing I had to remember was that he was one of the main guys in the mob. His interest in me could lead me to bigger places than working for one of the head guys. If I played my cards right, maybe I'd get to be a head guy myself.

"So, this batman in the papers, you escaped from him?" He asked when we'd both finished eating.

"Yeah, it's the same one. You should watch out for him. He's been trained and his armour felt bullet proof."

He laughed, patronisingly. "Hey, it's sweet that you're looking out for me. I'm sure it's nothing that a few armour-piercing rounds won't sort out. If this guy's bothering you, just let me know."

I didn't bother telling him that I stood a much greater chance against Batman than he did.

"So, do you want to come back to mine for a coffee?" He asked, his hand resting once again on my leg.

"Can we go for a few drinks first?"

"You want to go to Falcone's dressed like that?"

I leaned forward, staring into his eyes with a seductive smile playing on my face. "I thought I looked good in this dress. You're not in a rush are you?"

"We've got all night." He winked. I controlled my laughter before it escaped my lips.

He drove me back to the bar in his black Mercedes after paying the bill. I stepped into the bar and all heads turned towards me. The Chechen laughed at the sight of me in this dress. I smirked, thinking the same thing as Gambol put his arm around me and steered me away from the others into the front corner, nearest the bar.

"Give us some shots." He told the waiter before he had the chance to scuttle over. The waiter returned painfully slowly, trying not to spill the small amount of liquor in the twelve shot-glasses that he was carrying on a tray. He placed one of each type down in front of us one at a time.

"These are whiskey. These are rum. These are gin… No vodka… Oh, no, they are gin. Sorry." He said with a nervous titter. Gambol looked at him impatiently and the waiter cleared his throat to continue. "These ones are vodka. These are tequila and these are Tia Maria."

Gambol laid his money on the table and the waiter took it, thanking him profusely and backing away.

"Ooooh, Gambol you bad boy, you should know better than to mix your drinks, are you trying to poison me?"

He laughed, flattered. "Well, you're a tough girl, I thought you could handle it. Save the TM until last, it'll be a relief. Should we start with the vodka?"

"Oh God, I'd rather not. Rum first."

"Ladies choice." He grinned, taking the shot glass in his hand. "Ready?"

I nodded, picking it up and looking at the murky liquid inside. Quickly, we poured it down our throats and slammed the glasses back on the table. Gambol looked completely unfazed but I wrinkled my nose against the taste.

"Now the vodka." He laughed picking up that one. I hesitantly picked up mine. We tipped them back at the same time but I made the foolish mistake of not swallowing instantly. The taste filled my mouth and throat as I swallowed and reminded me strongly of nail-varnish remover. I coughed as it burned the back of my throat and Gambol laughed at me. As my eyes watered I saw the Chechen rushing out of the bar to take a call on his mobile. Before I could turn around to see what was happening, Gambol stole my attention again.

"Nothing goes well with vodka like gin." He smirked. I sighed, staring at the other shot-glass of clear liquid on the table.

"Can I have some salt?" I asked the waiter. He was so shocked at being addressed without warning that he tripped over his own feet trying to give me it.

I poured some salt onto my wrist, stopped, and then poured lots more. When I finally licked it off my wrist the taste was so horrible I almost felt sick and grabbed the gin thankfully to wash it away. After the taste of salt it was almost a relief. My head suddenly felt like it was spinning as the first of the alcohol had seeped into my veins. I laughed to myself. I picked up the last three shots without consulting him and knocked them back one after the other.

Then I warned him. "I hope your plan isn't to get me so wasted I can't remember the way home."

"Now, would I do that?" He asked, not sounding innocent in the slightest. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maroni and Falcone shake their heads at his comment and mutter something to each other. So that was his plan. From their reaction it was obvious he'd done this before.

If he thought getting me drunk would make me likely to sleep with him, he was wrong. Unluckily for him I'm a happy drunk, not a horny drunk. He finished his shots too and when the waiter came back, Gambol asked for another round. Luckily, the Chechen stormed back in.

"I need to speak to Red."

"Can't it wait?" Gambol said, trying to control the level of his voice.

"This is important. It's private. Red, come outside."

Gambol glared up in white hot fury as The Chechen guided me outside and I managed to leave without stumbling. As soon as we were away from the windows he spoke.

"Drink this." He told me, handing me a bottle of water. I took the cap off and drank it while he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not too drunk, just tipsy. I had a huge meal before drinking."

"Good. One of my drug suppliers is causing us a lot of trouble. My repeat customers are buying from other people. His drug makes them hallucinate but never in a good way. I'm going to talk to him but there's a chance that Batman will turn up and also, he keeps his drug in canister form. I don't want him to have the chance to use it if things good bad."

"Alright, do I have time to get changed?"

"Actually, I need you to. This guy… he's a bit like you. He likes to dress up. I want you to wear your outfit."

I smirked. "With pleasure."

He drove me to the forest and I took my heels off so that I could run faster. I tried to get changed as quickly as possible, luckily I had already curled my hair. I pulled on my outfit with one fishnet glove and one stripy sock, changing my heels to the sharp ones I wore for my first job. I took another sip of water before heading out, just to try and clear the alcohol from my system. I walked back out of the forest and into the black 4x4 where the Chechen had been waiting at the driver's seat. He tossed me his mobile phone.

"If it rings, answer, I'm waiting for a call."

"Thanks." I said, kissing him on the cheek.

"What for?" He asked, one eyebrow raised but still with a smile on his face.

"Getting me away from Gambol."

He laughed and started the ignition, turning the Land Rover around. "I thought you liked him. You looked like you were having a good time."

"That's how I was meant to look. He's got a bad temper. It wouldn't be a good idea to get on his bad side."

"Do you ever hide how you feel from me?" He asked, genuinely interested.

"No. I feel like I can trust you. You're like a dad." I answered honestly, I think the drink was affecting me more than I had realised. He seemed to be smiling though, which I thought was a good thing. "So, can you tell me more about this guy?"

"He calls himself Scarecrow. He wears a bag over his head."

"Is he that ugly?" I laughed.

"He uses it to scare people once he's made them inhale his drug. He enjoys people's fear. He's driving away all my customers…"

The phone on my knee rang and the Chechen nodded for me to answer.

"Hello?"

"Is this the Chechen?" The man replied, confused at hearing a female voice.

"No, it's Red, I work for him."

"Tell him he took it and he's waiting to get picked up outside the car park." The guy on the other end told me, and then hung up. I repeated the information to the Chechen.

"You'll be able to see the effect the drug has on my customers."

Ten minutes later, we had pulled up outside a multi-story car park and I was helping the Chechen haul a screaming and flailing man with dark hair into the back seat. Another black 4x4 with blacked out windows pulled up behind us and the Chechen turned to me.

"They're some other hit guys. They bring dogs." Then he leant in closer to me. "If Batman comes, I want you out alive. You have to get into my car and we drive away. When we get in there, I want you to pull the guy out of the back. If Scarecrow won't cooperate, I want you to talk to him. Don't fight. I don't want to drag you into my van like the guy we just pulled in."

I nodded and went back to sit in the car. The guy in the back seat was hyperventilating in a worrying way so I turned around to him whilst the Chechen spoke to his other guys.

"Shh. It's alright, it's just a trip." I told him in a soothing voice. The man stared at me in horror and screeched at me.

"Get away, get away!"

I turned back and ignored him after that, clearly he thought I was some sort of monster. Seconds later, the Chechen returned to the driver's seat.

"He's in there. You ready?" He asked. I nodded in reply, slightly excited. I had never done a job with him before and I was looking forward to it.

We drove to the top of the car park. There were a few other cars parked nearby but my eyes focused on a white van parked haphazardly with the back doors opening and men surrounding it designed for protection. I did as the Chechen told me and dragged the man onto the ground where he was visible by everyone. The man squirmed under my grip.

"Please! Please, they're crawling in my mouth. Please, I beg you. Get them off!"

"Look what your drugs did to my customers!" The Chechen yelled.

"I am aware." A tall man said. His hands gripped the top of the van as he climbed out and moved forward. He was wearing a strange mask that looked like it had been sewn together by a child. The mouth-piece had been jaggedly stitched shut and it had only small holes to see through. A rope hung down from where it pulled shut at the neck. "I told you my compound would take you places. I never said they'd be places you wanted to go."

"My business. Repeat customers!" The Chechen said, indicating towards the man on the ground that seemed to have fallen unconscious.

"If you don't like what I have to offer you can buy from someone else. Assuming Batman has left anyone to buy from." He replied. His voice sounded strange. It kept changing due to the way the mask was muffling his words. I really liked the look of him, although I couldn't see his face. I think it was because he had another identity like I did or maybe it was simply because he was different to all the usual men.

The Chechen turned to me with a small nod and I stepped forward, moving gracefully toward him. He stepped towards me, following my lead. For a moment it felt like no one else was in the car park with us. It was a strange feeling. There was adrenaline but for no apparent reason. We both stopped in the centre of both crowds. We were about a foot apart but a sudden urge made me want to move closer. He was much taller than me and his presence held something that no one else's did. It made me both want to look away from him and to keep staring. Being surrounded by everyone else made me uncomfortable. Living in Japan, I trained so hard I never got out and any boys that trained with me were to afraid to talk to me so, besides watching my mom flirt to get her own way and doing it myself, I had no experience of actually feeling an attraction for anyone.

"Surely we can come to some sort of agreement." I flirted, for once without meaning to. My heart raced as I spoke to him. His mask captivated me.

"What sort of deal are you making?" He replied, looking at me. It was strange not to be able to see his face to analyse his reaction.

"You must be getting your drugs imported. If you have other contacts we can pay you money to get a supply of drugs. You could make a good profit."

"And if I have no other contacts to give you?"

"I think you do. If not the people you get this supply from then I'm sure you'd know others. You must have got information off other customers." He was silent as he thought.

"I have access to a lot of drugs. It will cost you more and getting it will be risky. I'll meet you but you'll have to get it yourself."

"What you mean, 'risky'" The Chechen asked.

"I mean that I'm not going to risk getting caught or to be seen helping you. You'll need someone with experience that won't attract any attention. If they are noticed while I'm in the building then I'll have to act against them."

Before anyone else could speak the dogs behind me started barking loudly. Everyone looked around, some out of curiosity and others out of fear.

"My dogs are hungry!" The Chechen yelled, threateningly. We caught sight of a man in the shadows with bat ears. "Pity there is only one of you."

As he said that, two more lookalikes jumped out. One of them raised a gun and fired it. He had terrible aim, missing any useful target by miles and smashing a car window instead.

"That's not him." The Scarecrow said, slamming closed the back doors of his van and thrusting a piece of paper into my hand. The Chechen grabbed me and pulled me behind a car where he fired his machine gun at the guy who smashed his window. One of them advanced on the Scarecrow and I watched, eager to see how he'd handle it. He turned around and raised his fist, releasing a white, powdery gas into the man's face. The man instantly slumped to the floor upon inhaling it.

"Loose the dogs!" The Chechen yelled and the man holding them unclipped their leash. As they tore at the fake Batmen, a black car – that looked more like a tank – burst through the window and landed still on the floor.

"That's more like it." The Scarecrow said as the rest of the men wasted bullets firing at the obviously bullet-proof car.

The Chechen grabbed me and pushed me toward the van. I jumped in without needing to be told and fastened the seat belt. Before I had chance to see what was happening with the car, the Chechen jumped in and started the car, quickly reversing and driving away – narrowly missing being hit by some sort of missile.

The Chechen drove at an exhilarating speed, the danger of spinning around the tight bends at over one hundred miles per hour thrilled me and I couldn't help grinning to myself.

"We're getting away. Where you want to go?"

"Somewhere we can talk about this. Not with Gambol."

The Chechen drove around for a while before pulling out beside a small restaurant, hidden away and almost unnoticeable called "Vinnie's Italian". He got outside and I followed. He made sure to lock his car before we went inside.

We sat down at a table for two. The table was meant to look like marble but was really plastic. The Chechen ordered a pepperoni pizza but I was still full from all the pasta I'd eaten with Gambol. I still took one of his slices with a cheeky grin though.

"Do you know what he meant?" I asked him.

"The deal is he gets my drugs but I don't ask who he is. Maybe he works in a drug factory."

"Are you going to take up his offer?"

"I don't have a choice. Batman has put most of my dealers behind bars already."

I looked at him hopefully, waiting for more details.

"What's in your hand?" He asked. I had completely forgotten about the piece of paper the Scarecrow had given me. I opened it up to see a phone number.

"Oh… It's his number." I replied, trying not to show my excitement or to grin as widely as I wanted to. My efforts were useless as my face burned hotly – I could only imagine how red my cheeks had turned. The Chechen laughed at my reaction, making me blush harder.

"You like him." He stated. It wasn't a question. I looked away from the piece of paper and up into his face. He was sitting forward with a strange smile on his face. I bit my lip and sat back.

"Maybe."

"You want to do the job?" He asked.

"I don't know…" I replied. I felt anxious at the thought of meeting him again but the main reason I couldn't answer was because the excitement was bounding through my body like a rabbit trying to escape a fox.

"I think you should. I don't trust others to do it so well."

"I'll save the number to my phone" I murmured, dialling it in.

"Why don't you call him now?" The Chechen grinned, picking up another slice of pizza.

I thought about this and really wanted to put it off. "I don't want to seem too keen…"

He just shrugged and went back to eating his pizza. I looked at him and drummed my fingers on the table nervously, deep in thought.

"What should I say?" I asked him. He just laughed.

"This is why you need friend that is girl." He responded. I sighed.

"Girls are too petty and nosey." I complained as he nodded in agreement. I looked back at the piece of paper, admiring his neat handwriting.

"You don't know what he looks like, then?"

"Yes. He's tall. He has bag on head." He replied, making me laugh. I decided to drop the situation, after saying one last thing.

"Just don't tell Gambol."

He finished his pizza quickly and took me back to the forest, where I had nothing to distract myself from thinking about the Scarecrow. The Chechen said one thing to me before he got into his car and drove away.

"Call him tonight. That's an order, I need the drugs. You won't do it otherwise." He smiled.

I wandered back up to my cottage and let myself in. I flitted about nervously, ending up in front of my bathroom mirror.

"Just dial the number and say that the Chechen wants me to meet him tomorrow to discuss a plan…" I spoke to myself, staring into my reflection. "He won't even know that I think I might have feelings for him. Most men are really stupid. He won't be able to tell from my voice… not unless he can read minds or analyze what people say…"

I thought about this, then continued to speak. "He doesn't look like someone who's studied psychology; if he was then he wouldn't dress up in a mask and sell drugs… He won't be able to tell anything."

All the while I had my thumb held over the "call" button. As I was about to shout at myself for being so silly I accidently pressed the button to call. It started ringing.

I stared at the phone, panicking. Desperately hoping he wouldn't answer.

"Hello?"

_Shit, shit, shit… _I chanted in my head, putting the phone against my ear and having only a few seconds to fix my voice into a calm one.

"Hi, it's Red." I said. I was going to say more but my voice broke with tense thrill. I heard a soft laugh at the other end of the phone. His voice sounded so velvety and… educated over the phone. I glared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to talk some sense into myself using only my eyes. My heart thudded and cheeks turned pink. Thank God he couldn't see me.

"I wasn't expecting a call so soon, Red." He caught me off guard by saying my name, making me lose my focus.

_Get a grip!_

"Sorry, the Chechen wants to know how soon he can get them. I need more information."

"So, you're the one doing it?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?" I asked before I could stop myself. I had no idea what sort of flirting this was, but it couldn't be good. I heard him move position and became intensely curious as to what he was doing. I knew better than to ask.

When he replied, his voice sounded more interested and almost… teasing. "No, I'm _very_ happy with that."

I managed to cover my mouth just in time. I didn't know whether I was about to squeal or moan or say something I'd regret but luckily I stopped it. I worked desperately hard to make my voice level as quickly as possible – I didn't want there to be an obvious pause. Somehow, I felt I had failed at that too. Probably due to my heavy breathing through my nose.

"So… When do you want to meet?" I asked, and then quickly added, "Or would you prefer to discuss it over the phone?"

"No, I think we should meet. I live in a detached house in the Narrows. I'll text you with the address."

"Okay." I replied, my breathing rate quickening again.

There was a pause and more muffled sound on the other end of the phone.

"Are you busy?" I asked. When I thought it through in my head it didn't sound as stupid as I was sure it had out loud.

"Nope. I'm just… lying on my bed." He replied. I could almost hear the smile in his voice. There was no way he could know how I feel…

_Erm, hello? You are acting like an obsessed teenager. Pretty obvious…_

I really wanted to talk more but I decided it was best not to. I was sure I'd put him off me already. "So, what time should I come around?"

"I finish work at seven o'clock so… meet me at half past eight." He replied. I groaned inwardly. How the hell was I meant to distract myself for that long?

"Where do you work?" I asked. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I was trying to avoid ending the phone call. Part of me thought that if I wanted any pride left, I'd hang up right now, but I wanted to see what would happen…

His voice turned serious. "When I give you details, they can't go any further than you. Not even to the Chechen, do you understand?"

"Yes." I replied sincerely. He seemed happy with my answer.

"I run Arkham Asylum."

"Oh." I replied. "So, you're a psychiatrist?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.

"Yes. I am." He replied, sounding amused.

_Damn it…_

"Oh, and Red?" He began. "People around here don't know me as the Scarecrow and I'd like to keep it that way so I'll have to ask you to dress subtly."

"Alright." I replied, now suddenly desperate for the conversation to end. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it." He answered in his smooth voice.

I hung up. My heart beat heavily against my chest and the silence rung in my ears. I stared at myself in the mirror, my face looking mortified with embarrassment. Then, slowly, I began to smile as I replayed his voice in my head.

I bounded over to my sticky-pad as though I was walking on air. My cheeks ached from the silly grin on my face that I couldn't get rid of. My hand moved scruffily over the notepad as though I was writing for the first time in years.

I stuck the notes to my wall and after many hours of tossing and turning in bed I managed to fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning:** Content is starting to get... Slightly more mature.

* * *

I checked the time as soon as I woke up. It was almost half-past eleven. That meant I had nine hours to pass before I'd meet him again. I decided to myself that once I was out of bed I'd make every effort possible not to think of him.

I turned over and pulled the duvet higher, allowing myself to remember his voice and the things he'd said. It was much easier to block out everything I had said – seeing as I was desperately trying to forget that part. I'd never been interested in men before. Ever. I wondered if everyone felt like this or if I was just being very pathetic.

Just as I had managed to push him to the back of my mind and got out of bed, my phone vibrated loudly, making me jump. I picked it up to check the message. It was his address. I started at it for a while… and then told myself I'd try not to think of him when I was out of the house. Luckily for me, I had plenty to do today. I got changed into my leather outfit and started my motorbike then drove into town.

The Chechen had referred me to the manager of the Gotham National bank to open a bank account because he worked for the mob and wouldn't ask questions. I pulled up outside the bank and padlocked my motorbike before stepping inside.

"Can I help you?" A blonde woman asked with a huge smile plastered on her face and a sickly sweet voice.

"Yeah, I'm looking for the manager, Mr. Anderson."

"Mr. Anderson is very busy right now, is it urgent?"

"Yes, he's expecting me."

"Name?"

"Ruby Clark." I answered, as the Chechen had told me to.

"Oh, yes, sorry Miss Clark. He's in his office, go right ahead."

"Thanks… where is his office?" I asked.

"It's right over there." She replied, pointing to a room with huge windows all the way around. I walked over and knocked on the door.

"Come in." He said, and I walked in and sat down on a small chair by the door. "It's Ruby, isn't it?"

"It's Red actually, but that's the name I'm sticking with." I replied. He nodded silently and turned to his computer. He asked me details about my date of birth and telephone number which I gave him, however I told him I wasn't telling him my address and he accepted it without questions. My bank account had been set up in under half an hour. I took the rucksack filled with money off my back and handed it over. It contained just under ninety-thousand dollars, leaving me five-hundred dollars in cash.

I stopped in a café for a drink and some lunch before heading out to the shops. I wanted to find the perfect t-shirt to go with my denim hot pants. I spent hours drifting in and out of shops before finding one I liked. It was a black, baggy t-shirt with three-quarter length sleeves that were cut into spaghetti straps. The top hung off the shoulder and was sexy but very casual so I could get away with wearing my shorts.

Finally, at five o'clock I went into a beauty salon.

"We're closing." The owner said irritably.

"How much would it be to get my hair curled, nails painted and make-up done?" I asked.

"It would be seventy-five dollars, but like I said, we're closing."

"I'm going somewhere important tonight, and if you did a good job it would be worth… three-hundred and fifty dollars to me." I replied. The owner had red hair that framed her face and grey eyes that were now wide with shock.

"Are you for real?" She asked, sceptically.

"You have to do a good job. I want to feel relaxed…" I added.

"What's the occasion?" She asked, more friendly now.

"I'm going to see a guy… It's sort of a blind date." I added, making it sound more normal than telling her I was going to discuss how to smuggle some drugs without being caught.

"You're wearing that?" She asked, eyeing my leather outfit.

"Well, no. But my clothes are at home." She looked at me, thinking hard, then looked at a small café across the road – the one I had lunch in.

"Listen, I need a break, I've been working hard. I'm going to get a drink. Go home and get changed then come back and I'll fix you up. What time are you meeting him?"

"Half-past eight." I grinned, nervous at the thought.

"Well, I hope he looks good for you. A blind date in Gotham isn't something I'd attempt. Come back at half-past six and, like I said, I'll do it for you."

I handed her fifty dollars. "Here's a deposit, so stick around."

She nodded as I left and revved up my motorbike, setting off for home. As soon as I was back at home I felt incredibly nervous. I paced the room, tidying manically for something to do. I got dressed into some black heals, my denim shorts and my new t-shirt but it was only quarter to six.

To avoid dwelling on the fact that I was shortly going to be meeting him at his home and it would just be us two alone, I called the Chechen.

"Did you call him?" He asked as soon as he answered. Great, the first topic we got to was the Scarecrow.

"Yeah, I'm meeting him soon."

"I hope it goes well." He said and I could hear the smug grin in his voice. Just hearing him made me feel more confident and I smiled.

"Me too. Did Gambol say anything about me not turning up last night?"

"I haven't seen him today. Should I let you know?"

I sighed. "No, I'll probably find out tomorrow… or later tonight."

"Have a good time. Don't get too carried away, huh? It's business." He laughed. The thought made my insides squirm – that was actually the last thing I'd thought about. Suddenly, he wasn't helping my confidence anymore. I decided to steer the conversation away from the Scarecrow.

"So, are there any other jobs for me to do?"

"No. This is your priority. I got some other guys to do my other work."

I realised there was something I really needed to do. I couldn't let myself turn up to see him in this state…

"Well, I just thought I'd let you know I'm meeting him. See you soon." I said, hanging up.

I took my purse containing money and my other usual equipment – minus the knife – and locked the door to my cottage, throwing one leg over my motorbike. Revving the engine, I pulled the brake off and sped back to the café where the woman was waiting. I pulled up outside an hour before she has stated and walked in. When she saw me she checked her watch and frowned.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Charlotte, what's yours?"

"Ruby." I replied. "Before we start, can we go and get a drink? I need some courage…"

She grinned at me and stepped up, paying the waitress and leaving the café with me.

"Let's get a bottle of red wine." I suggested but she turned and shook her head.

"No way. It'll stain your lips and you'll look silly. We'll get white."

We walked into a small off-licence shop and bought a fairly expensive bottle of white whine. I was planning on getting the strongest but she wouldn't allow it. We took it back to the salon and she locked the door behind her and pulled out two wine glasses.

"Let's make a toast." She said, holding the glass up. I copied her movement. "To you and me. To looking our best. And to finding a decent guy."

She took a small sip from her glass. Mine was more of a gulp.

"Hair first!" She grinned. She led me to a black leather chair in front of a huge mirror and wandered off to get a variety of hair products and two different sized curling irons. "So, tell me about this guy!"

I blushed. It felt like he knew I was talking about him, even though that was impossible. I pushed that insane thought from my mind.

"Well… there isn't much to tell. I've heard his voice on the phone though and it's really-" I was cut off by the sound of my mobile phone ringing. "Oh, shit. It's him."

I bit my lip as she squealed. "Answer it!"

I took a deep breath. "Hello?"

"Hi. I'm afraid we're having trouble with one of the patients. I won't get back until nine o'clock. Is that still okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I answered, his soft voice enthralling me.

"I'll see you soon." He replied and put down the phone.

As soon as Charlotte saw I'd put down the phone she burst out. "What did he say?"

"Change of time. It's at nine now."

"Oh." She replied, unsure of whether this upset me or not. "Well, let's top up the glasses then! I may as well do your nails first now. Let me see… nice outfit by the way. Hmm… I'm going to paint them navy blue, is that okay?"

I nodded as she filled up my wine glass after I'd only had one gulp. "Hold your hand out." She instructed.

As I held out my hand she sat on a stool opposite after placing a small plastic table in between us. She started filing my nails into a rounded shape as she spoke.

"I remember my first boyfriend. He was so… _bad_. It was really exciting. He was always getting into detention and stuff. Beating up people he didn't like. He wasn't really a bully… he didn't choose certain people. Just the people that didn't agree with him. It was exciting though. His name was Garfield. Weird name, isn't it? I think that was probably why he wanted to be called firefly…"

"What happened?" I asked.

"Ahh… I left him when he tried to burn down the school. I heard he kidnapped his last ex-girlfriend. He's in Arkham now… I think. Still, he was pretty gorgeous."

I grinned. "So, you're into the freaks then?"

"Well… you could say that. I just like a bit of excitement… you know?"

"I definitely agree."

"So tell me about your first boyfriend." She smiled, getting out the nail varnish. I took another sip of my wine, feeling less nervous while she was talking.

"I haven't had one. I haven't found any freaks yet." I replied. She stopped in her tracks and looked at me.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen… you?"

"I'm the same. So are you still… you know… a virgin?" She asked, wide-eyed. I cringed.

"Yep." She looked at me, and evidently decided it didn't matter.

"You have no idea what you're missing babe. You should check into Arkham."

"With all the crazy people?" I laughed. "Danger is one thing, but they need to know what's going on at least."

"They aren't all that bad!" She said, then leaned in closer as though the room was crowded with people instead of empty. "Put it this way, I wouldn't have minded being kidnapped by Garfield."

Then she winked at me. I vaguely imagined someone trying to kidnap me… I doubt they would succeed unless I didn't fight back. But then, it wouldn't really be kidnap.

"I'll remember that for the next blind date." I smiled as she took my other hand and started filing the nails. I picked up my wine glass with my other hand and continued drinking.

"Hmm…" She smiled, whilst remembering her ex-boyfriend. "Another of my boyfriend's has ended up in Arkham. Well, he's been released now. Someone called Schiff. He was really paranoid. It got a bit annoying."

"How many boyfriends have you had?" I asked. She looked thoughtful.

"I've lost count." She laughed. "I must be unlucky because, besides those two, the majority ended up in prison. Or maybe it's just Gotham."

"Did you have sex with all of them?" I asked. Again, she looked thoughtful.

"Yeah, I think so. " She interrupted me, already knowing what I was about to say. "I know what your next question is going to be. 'What is it like having sex with a crazy person like Schiff?' Well… interesting. He got very excited. Spent most of the time with his eyes closed though. God knows what was going on there… but anyway, they're energetic." She said, finishing the last coat of paint as I drained the last of my glass of wine.

"The rule I have for wine is: One glass does nothing, two gets you happy, three glasses makes you horny and four glasses makes you fall asleep. So, what's it to be, two or three?"

"I'll stick with two." I replied, not wanting to forget this was business and also not wanting to appear like a whore. She looked at me strangely, wondering why I wasn't going to make the most of the date. "For all I know he could be some ugly old man! I'd rather not waste my virginity on that thanks."

She laughed and plugged the curling iron in. As she went to pour herself another glass of wine I started thinking. What if he was an old man? It can take years to be a psychiatrist and he said he ran the place… it must take even longer to climb up that ladder. I pictured a fat, balding man in my head. However, remembering his voice, he didn't sound old at all…

"Your hair is a gorgeous brown by the way." She smiled as she brushed it through and applied a few different serums to it. It took her a while to curl it all. She took small sections so that it wouldn't bunch together. She carried on talking as I finished the last of my wine. It took her over an hour to complete. When she had finished, it looked amazing. It even bounced gently as I moved.

"Wow." I said, admiring it. Then I got an abrupt sinking feeling in my stomach. "What time is it?" I asked nervously.

"Almost ten past eight." She replied.

"Oh God." I replied, feeling slightly sick from nerves.

"Don't worry!" She said, a cheery smile on her face. Her jolliness worked, letting my excitement overpower my anxiety. Not that I should feel anything at all. It was a job like any other and he was just a guy in a mask… "You're going to look gorgeous. And he might not look that bad either."

"I can imagine some old, weird pervert." I told her honestly. She rushed around getting a variety of different make-up and putting them on a tray that she wheeled over.

"Well, how did he sound on the phone?" She asked, whilst hold different foundations up to my face to see which one matched my colouring most.

"He sounded… really gorgeous."

"Did he sound young?" She asked, then added. "By the way, you're the palest one and if I go darker than ivory, you're going to look like you have a dirty face. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind. I like being pale anyways. And he sounded fairly young I suppose."

"Tell me if it goes well, it seems exciting. I might have to try it out. Was he in the paper?"

"No, it was through a friend."

"Stop speaking now, I don't want to smudge the make-up."

For twenty minutes I sat completely still, my mind racing as she applied the make-up.

"I've given you a natural look because the hair and outfit says it all. I don't want you to look like a clown."

I turned towards the mirror. It was gorgeous. She outlined my eyes with a small amount of black eyeliner and mascara so that it brought out the dark hazel colour better and had put a gentle, light pink lip-gloss on my lips. It was really simple but looked great.

"Thank you so much." I said, standing and grinning at her. She gave me a hug and wished me luck. "It was three-fifty right?"

"Just make it three-hundred. You can knock fifty off for being such good company. If you want to do this again, I'll do it for free as long as you supply the wine. It's been the best chat I've had about boys for years."

"Thanks Charlotte." I grinned, then added without really wanting to. "Can you tell me the time?"

"It's… just gone half-past eight." She smiled. She looked almost more excited than I did.

"See you sometime soon then." I said, walking out of the shop and unlocking the padlock of my motorbike. My insides squirmed as I tried not to think about where I was going. The new top I had bought felt soft against my skin and I was really confident in the way I looked after just being pampered. I wasn't confident in my ability to string together a coherent sentence around him though. I didn't know whether or not the alcohol would help these matters, especially as I was swerving slightly on the road. The wine made me feel warm but luckily, not giddy. My thoughts turned back to him. Maybe, he'd turn out to be really ugly and I'd be disappointed and go back to not feeling anything for anyone. For some reason, it seemed like I was missing out before, even though I'd been perfectly happy. I was so lost in my daydreaming that I didn't realise I was at his house until I stopped the engine.

My heart raced but I felt composed as I rang the doorbell of his rather large house. There was no answer so I went to lean against my motorbike – hoping to look good in case he saw me – and checked my mobile phone. It was just past ten to nine. I drummed my fingers nervously against the seat of my bike. It was a habit I did self-consciously although it didn't do much to calm me down.

A few minutes later, as I was beginning to relax, a black Mercedes pulled up behind my bike. I bit my lip. When he got out of the car my jaw almost dropped. I felt my cheeks go hot but hopefully the colour wasn't visible under the thin layer of foundation she'd put on. He was absolutely dazzling. He had slightly long, dark brown hair and bright, liquid blue eyes behind silver-framed glasses that really suited him. He was wearing a grey suit and pulled a briefcase out of the car with him. My nervousness was overtaken by some long-hidden desire to attract as I smiled at him. No doubt he could see right through it. I padlocked my bike as he locked his car and walked over to me.

"Nice to meet you again." He said, his voice charming and silky. "You look nice."

"Thanks. You too."

"Would you like to come inside?" He asked, but it was obviously a rhetorical question as he turned and led me up his path. For some god-forsaken reason I was swaying my hips as I walked. Oh dear.

He pushed his key into the lock and opened the door, holding it open for me and closing it behind me.

"Make yourself comfortable." He said, indicating towards the living room. "I'm going to get changed."

I walked towards the living room. It had a cream carpet, dark red walls and a real coal fire. I sat on the soft, velvet sofa and tried distracting myself at first by feeling the texture of the material and looking at the colour difference between the sofa and my nails. Then I realised that I should probably take this time to think about how amazing he looks so that I wouldn't do it as much when he was here. As soon as I thought about his blue eyes he walked into the room wearing a sweater with a shirt underneath, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans.

He sat on the floor by the fire and put two logs inside, followed by a few chunks of coal and lit it. The flames began to roar as he dusted his hands off and came to sit next to me.

"Did the Chechen send you or did you suggest it?" He asked, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were about to smile.

"Actually, he said he didn't trust anyone else to do it right. Do I bother you?" I asked.

"Not at all." He replied, smiling politely. "It'll probably be more useful."

"Useful?"

"Can I offer you a drink?" He grinned, avoiding the question.

"What do you have?" I asked, returning the smile naturally. Whether it was because he had a beautiful smile or because I was slightly tipsy was a mystery.

"Oh, I was thinking some wine. Do you like white wine?" He asked, standing up and moving towards the kitchen.

"Yeah." I called back. I laughed to myself as I remembered Charlotte's rule about what three glasses of wine could do to you.

He came back with a wine glass in each hand, and handed one to me. I was electrically aware that his fingers touched mine for a second. He took a large mouthful of his but I sipped mine, knowing if I drank it too quickly I'd get very drunk off just this glass.

He took his shoes off and curled his legs on the sofa, turning towards me with one arm resting on the back of it.

"So, how was your day?" He asked. I wondered if he was trying to trick me but I answered, lying slightly. I didn't want him to know I'd been nervous about meeting him all day.

"It was good thanks. How was work?" I asked. He grinned, his head tilted.

"Stressful. But, still… who says you can't have fun?"

I sipped my wine again and wondered how hard it could be to kiss someone. Something else I'd never done… I was no doubt the biggest flirt in Gotham and I had never even kissed a guy. I knew what my mom would say.

_Go for it! You're my daughter; it's in your nature to be a great kisser._

I hoped it would help me now. Not that it would come to that of course… Oh God the third glass of wine was working already. I should _not_ be thinking about kissing him right now.

"What sort of fun?" I asked, my voice lowering itself to a seductive tone without my permission.

"Oh, it's always fun to see how the crazies react to a fear toxin." He said, his eyes staring into mine. The translucent blue of his eyes captivated me and he did nothing to stop it. Reluctantly, I looked down – out of his spell, a smile playing on my face.

He took another gulp of his wine as I took a sip of my own. He stood to fetch the wine bottle from the kitchen to refill his glass. I didn't dare stand in case I stumbled over. When he returned, he poured more wine into his glass and curled up facing me again. The fire blazed and crackled in the background.

"To get the drugs, you'll need to have a reason to get past the security desk." He said, his mouth turned up at the corner into a smile but his eyes analyzed my face curiously. With the wine coursing through my veins it was almost painful to look at his face without moving closer to him. I tried to focus on what he was saying. However, his plan didn't do much to make me want to keep my distance.

"How will I get past?"

"You'll have to tell them you're there to see me."

"And they'll just let me in?"

"No." He laughed softly. "You're drinking slowly."

"It's my third glass." I told him, as though he knew what it meant.

"Were you nervous?" He asked, intrigued and almost amused.

"A little." I replied, the wine making me so confused that I couldn't remember if I wanted to tell the truth or not. He just laughed softly, the smile returning to his face as he looked down at his glass.

"I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable." He said, looking back up to me with his enchanting eyes.

"Not really."

"Good, because if I did my plan wouldn't work very well."

"Are you going to tell me the plan?"

"Drink some more of your wine and I will." He replied, watching me as I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a slightly bigger sip.

His eyes didn't leave my face as he said, "You'll have to pretend to be my fiancé."

There was no hiding my crimson blush now as I felt my face burn as I tried to control my emotions. I was too late to hide my smile and his eyes darted to it, making him grin to himself as he looked away.

"What will that involve?"

"Well, we'll have to act like we're in love." He said, his eyes staring into mine, putting his spell on me again. "When people are around that is. It'll need to look natural."

I took a larger gulp of wine for an excuse to hide my facial expression. It didn't last long enough so I bent down to take my high heels off.

"Here, let me hold your glass." He said, so I could take my shoes off successfully. When I sat back up and folded my legs underneath me, he handed the glass back to me full, and then refilled his own. I looked at it and bit my lip, trying to remember what Charlotte had said. Four glasses makes you sleep…

My eyes darted back up to him, slightly panicky. "How will I get home? I drove here…"

"Well, you can stay tonight. I've got a guest bedroom. And it's Saturday tomorrow, so I don't have work."

"I don't have any other clothes…" I said, but the softness of his hair was distracting me.

"You can sleep in one of my shirts." He said, smiling intently at my expression. "If that wouldn't make you too uncomfortable."

His eyes moved over to the fire and he got up to put another log in. I admired his frame and the way he moved. The glasses looked so sexy on him…

He sat back down and watched me as though waiting for something. I carefully avoided his eyes, wondering what he could be waiting for and then took another mouthful of my wine, setting it down on the small table at the end of the sofa.

He moved slightly closer to me. He raised his hand slowly and stroked my hair, admiring it. He left his hand there as he looked back towards me. "You've got to make it seem realistic." He told me.

"Is this a practise?" I asked, moving closer to him.

"I don't know." He replied with a small smile as he looked at me. I lifted my hand to his hair, running my fingers through it as he exhaled deeply and looked back into my eyes. His amazing eyes made it so hard for me to think that I acted naturally, without stopping to think of the consequences. My fingers slipped down to his neck as his hand moved to the back of my head and gently pulled me forward. My mind was a blur as I closed my eyes and my lips touched his. He pressed them against me softly then backed away slightly, looking into my eyes as though asking for permission. I moved back towards him and his tongue brushed lightly against my bottom lip. I opened my mouth slightly and his tongue touched mine. He held my head against his more firmly, but still giving me chance to back away if I wanted.

I felt a hot ache between my legs that made it incredibly hard to think as he stroked my neck with his other hand. I let out a small whimper as I brought my free hand up to his face. His mouth moved gently against mine before he pulled away. His face was serious, but his eyes were filled with want… and something that looked close to frustration.

"I have to know if you're serious. I'm not interested in playing games." He said, watching my expression. I gave the impression I was easy because it lured in my victims and made my jobs easier. I wasn't aware if gossip travelled fast in Gotham but after taking another gulp of my wine I decided to just tell him.

"You know I work for the mob. I'm very… trained. My parent's made sure of that. I act seductively because my mom taught me that it was one of the most useful ways to get people to do what I want. And it helps me attract the people I'm meant to be killing, despite the fact they know I'm dangerous." I looked up at him. "I haven't… done anything… before."

The sudden realisation of what I said hit him and from my expression he gathered I was telling the truth. "Why not?"

"No one ever interested me before." I smiled, so the conversation would take a less serious turn.

"And do I interest you?" He asked, grinning.

"A lot." I breathed, blushing and looking away. I shouldn't have had so much wine. He pulled my face back towards his and pressed his lips back to mine, his hand returning to my neck. I ran my fingers back through his soft hair and he held my waist, pulling me closer. We spent the rest of the night holding and kissing each other until the fire died and the room grew cold. Finally, he pulled away with a big smile on his face as he looked at me.

"Come on." He said, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs. He took me into his bedroom. In the corner of the room was a large wardrobe next to a chest of drawers and in the corner closest to the door was a desk, piled high with documents and holding his briefcase. Against the right wall was his king-sized bed. He routed through his wardrobe, pulling out a shirt and handing it to me.

I tried to take it off him but he was still holding it, instead he pulled me back towards him.

"How would you feel if you went home tomorrow and didn't see me again?" He asked, his eyes fixated on mine. I thought about the idea of not seeing him again and my stomach twisted.

As I was wondering how honest I should be, his gaze made me answer before I had decided. "I'd hate it."

He gave me a small smile, then looked away and sighed before looking back at me. "And how would you feel if we were in a relationship?"

I realised where he had got his confidence from. He could no doubt read every movement in my expression – especially as I was drunk. He already knew how I felt – he probably didn't even need to ask. I grinned without thinking and answered, "I'd prefer that."

He looked into my eyes, completely serious, then bent down to kiss me softly. "Do you want to try?"

I nodded, the mob far away from my thoughts. He kissed me again before letting go of the shirt.

I felt the material under my fingers and looked back up to see him unbuttoning his. I stopped, watching him, enthralled. He laughed softly, putting the shirt he was wearing in a laundry basket, closely followed by his socks and jeans.

The area between my legs felt incredibly hot and damp as he stood in front of me in just his boxers. He smiled to himself as he looked at my expression. If I wasn't frozen to the spot I would have pounced on him.

"If you want to sleep with me in my bed tonight, you can." He offered. His words snapped me out of it and I nodded. He lay back on the bed, waiting for me to join him. He sat up quickly, his eyes slightly wider as he saw me pull my new top over my head, closely followed by the gentle thud of my hot pants falling to the floor. I was wearing my bright pink, push-up bra with black lace and a matching thong. I turned around as I buttoned his shirt loosely over myself, leaving it open at the top so that you could just catch a glimpse of my bra from the side.

He lifted the duvet for me so I could climb into bed. I noticed his boxers were much more pronounced as I slid in beside him. He lifted the covers for himself and climbed under, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer to press his lips against mine. As he stroked my hair and face I fell into a deep sleep, unaware that he stayed awake an hour longer watching me. Figuring me out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** Mature content!

* * *

I woke up with a headache, unable to remember the previous night. I kept my eyes closed against the sunlight as I let my mind probe through my memories to see if anything in particular stood out. I could remember Charlotte and arriving at the Scarecrows. My heart felt as though it had skidded to a halt. What had happened?

_He got you more wine… He looked really gorgeous… He wants you to pretend to be his fiancé… He kissed you…_

My eyes darted open. I was in his bed and he was nowhere to be seen. I tried to recall where the bathroom was but I couldn't remember ever seeing it. I got up anyway, wearing only his shirt and tiptoed along the landing, in search of it. I found it at last, just next to the stairs. I was glad I had, my hair was sticking up messily and I had make-up smudged over my face. All I could do was splash water onto my face to get rid of it and comb my hair through with my fingers. By the time I had finished I looked a lot better but still nowhere near as good as last night.

I heard a noise downstairs, coming from the kitchen and went down to see him, hoping it wouldn't be awkward. As he saw me approaching he smiled.

"How do you like your coffee?" He asked.

"Oh… strong thanks." I replied, feeling shy for the first time that I could remember. I sat down at the breakfast bar as he handed it to me and I nursed it between my hands, letting it warm me up. As I sipped it slowly, savouring the flavour in silence, he came and sat opposite me and slid a plate of hot pancakes towards me.

"I was going to bring them upstairs but I must have woken you up." He said, studying my face as though my feelings for him had changed over night.

I beamed at him, blushing gently. "Thanks, that's really sweet."

He looked down at his own plate, but I thought I saw a pleased smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. I drowned my pancakes in syrup and ate them eagerly, enjoying the sweet taste in comparison to the bitter coffee. When I looked back up, I caught him staring at me and recoiled, blushing red.

"Don't look at me like that, I look awful." I told him. He gave a small laugh and looked back down to his plate.

"Well, I don't think so." He replied. I smiled. We ate the rest of our breakfast in animated conversation about how I was going to get the drugs from Arkham.

"So," I said, running through it again, "I go in to the security desk and say 'I'm here to see my fiancé–"

"Then they'll ask you for my name." He interrupted, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

"Oh." I started, embarrassed. "I'll ask for the Scarecrow, shall I?"

"My name is… Jonathan Crane." He replied. "Who shall I say my fiancé is?"

"I'm going by the name Ruby Clark."

"What's your real name?" He asked. I considered not telling him, but he trusted me with his identity even though I worked for the mob and I wanted him to know he could trust me.

"It's Scarlett. Nobody in Gotham knows though…" I admitted. He nodded in understanding. The name _Scarlett Crane_ popped into my head but I quickly banished it, feeling embarrassed at the thought. As though on cue, my mobile phone rang loudly.

"It's Gambol." I told him, my heart pounding worriedly. He looked at me, half concerned, half curious. I answered it. "Hi."

"Hey Red." I brought my finger up to my mouth to signal for Jon to be silent as I turned the call onto loud-speaker. "What happened to you? I haven't seen you since the Chechen took you away."

"I've just been busy." I replied uncertainly. Jon kept his composure but couldn't hide the look of rivalry from his eyes – he knew Gambol would present a problem. A fact I'd clearly forgotten in the excitement.

"Doing what?" He asked, his voice thick with impatience.

"Shopping and opening a bank account."

"Well, should we pick up where we left off?" He asked, the smug smile evident in his voice. I grimaced and looked up at Jon. He shook his head slowly.

"When?"

"Tonight."

"I can't tonight, sorry." I lied. There was a deadly silence on the other end of the phone. Jon's eyes narrowed in secretive fury.

"What do you mean, 'you can't'?" He said, his tone alerting me to the hidden dangers of turning him down.

"I'm working with the Scarecrow on a job for the Chechen. It's important."

"All night?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"It's a dangerous job. I want to make sure I know what I'm doing…" I began, although I knew there was no safe way to get out of this.

"Tomorrow then. We'll go for a game of pool. I'll meet you at the bar at two o'clock."

"I'll look forward to it." I replied, my voice sounding enthusiastic but with no trace of a smile on my face. However, it seemed to brighten his mood immensely.

"Alright. See you soon."

I hung up and Jon looked at me enquiringly. "He's one of the head guys working for Falcone. We were on a date when the Chechen saved me by bringing me to meet you. He thinks he's a lady charmer and expects me to be interested. He's going to be a problem. I can't tell them about us, it's too risky."

He sighed deeply. "I will trust you. Just don't let it go too far."

I nodded miserably. The thought of having to see Gambol tomorrow brought me back down from my high. He spoke again, "Why do you work for the mob anyway?"

"My parents used to and it was their dream that I would. When I say their dream, I mean I had no choice in the matter and had to go through years of training to get where I am now. It was their obsession. I'd never leave though, the Chechen is really nice to me and besides, I'm sure you know how much fun it can be to torment people and get away with it."

I finished my coffee and went back upstairs to his bedroom so I could get changed. I put on my clothes from yesterday, picking them up off his floor. When I finished getting dressed he was leaning against the doorframe.

"I'll see you on Monday." He said, handing me some money.

"What's this for?" I asked, for a moment wondering if he thought I was an escort.

"You'll need an engagement ring." He answered, and then bent to kiss me on the cheek.

I turned the key in my ignition and set off, feeling his eyes on my back as I rode away. When I got home, I added to my notes on Gambol and the Scarecrow before having a hot shower and trying to unwind. The thought of seeing Gambol tomorrow, after spending the night with the Scarecrow, was disappointing enough to make me feel sick so I desperately avoided thinking of it.

My plan didn't work so well. As I stepped out of the shower, my wet feet patting against the tiles, a glint of silver caught my eye. Or to be more precise, platinum. The expensive diamond bracelet glimmered away on my bedside table, just outside the door, reminding me of his presence in my life and I scowled at it. It no longer seemed like a gift or a kind gesture. No, it felt like a tag. A chain. A collar. Something that made me belong to him – that made everyone else know I was his.

I hadn't minded before. This issue was in the back of my mind because the fact was: I wasn't his. It kept other unwanted admirers away and kept him happy – I felt smug at the way I was in control of the situation. Now, _my_ situation changed. I did belong to someone, secretly. Now, the bracelet was a fearful lump of cold metal, strapping me to someone that made me feel sick. I shuddered at the thought of wearing it again, as I knew I would have to tomorrow. It felt like cheating on the Scarecrow. It felt like a prison sentence. Suddenly, leading a double life felt so much less appealing without Jon's penetrating blue eyes to take all my reason away.

In the hope that buying a fake engagement ring would cheer me up, I put on my leather outfit and hopped back onto my bike, speeding through the forest even faster than usual – the wind whipping past me reminding me that I was free. I parked my motorbike at the first jewellery shop I came to, which happened to be a relatively expensive one.

A woman strutted over to me, eyeing my outfit with a disgruntled expression and evidently hoping I wouldn't stay long. Her grey-blonde hair was tied back in a tight bun and she wore a pair of glasses at the end of her straight, pointed nose. She was incredibly tall and much taller than me.

"Hello." She said, in a voice so formal it was obviously not her natural voice. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, I need an engagement ring."

"For a gentleman?"

"No. For myself." I replied, as she frowned and tutted.

"I always found it more romantic for the person proposing to buy the ring."

"Well, some of us just aren't into romance."

She looked me up and down, distastefully. "Evidently not."

She led me through a door that led out of the main shop, and into a smaller room that was filled with glass cases displaying a huge variety of rings.

"Platinum is usually most popular as it takes a very long time to erode and therefore symbolizes a healthy, long relationship."

"Silver will be fine." I requested, but she turned to look at me with furious eyes.

"We do not sell engagement rings in silver. If you want a lower standard of ring, I suggest you go to a different shop."

I sighed, thoughts of cheering myself up abandoned. "Can you just tell me which the cheapest ring is?"

She moved away, disgruntled to the cabinet furthest away from the door. "This is an 18k white gold, four-claw ring. The diamond is 0.3 carat, has small inclusions and is the poorest brand of white. The cut of the diamond is only satisfactory. It is $655."

"_That_ is the cheapest?"

"As I said, if you want a lower standard of ring I suggest you try a different shop. This style of ring also comes in 950 platinum with a 2.0 diamond that is cut in hearts and arrows, pure white and internally flawless for $77,970."

After she put the price of the cheapest ring into perspective I bought it and – to her relief – left the shop.

For the first time in my life that night, I had a nightmare.

_My wrist was bound by a handcuff, the other end of which was strapped to Gambol. The Chechen had gone; all that was left was Gambol, Maroni, Falcone and me. The Scarecrow stood opposite, his blue eyes blazing through his mask. He was holding out another chain but it was golden and a lot smaller. It was strapped to his wedding finger and the other end of the cuff was meant to attach to mine._

_My mother's and father's voice echoed throughout the blackened room._

"_The mob means everything."_

"_It's what you were born to do."_

"_We trained you for them."_

"_You have no choice."_

"_Don't let us down."_

"_Don't be WEAK."_

_I held out my finger and the Scarecrow took off his mask. Jon clasped the golden cuff around my finger, a small smile glowing on his face as his eyes turned soft._

_As he turned and led me towards the church, Gambol turned in the opposite direction and headed for Falcone's bar. I screamed for Jon to wait and for Gambol to let me go but neither stopped walking._

_Slowly and painfully, I tore in half._

"STOP!!" I screamed, jolting upright in bed, panting and sweating. On my bedside table was the fake engagement ring and Gambol's bracelet. I threw them both to the floor, sank back down into bed and tried to regulate my breathing. A few seconds later my alarm rang loudly, causing me to jump and panic again.

I tried to pull myself together as I stepped into the shower. I reminded myself that I was in control of the situation. No one could hurt me – literally, I could kill anyone that tried. I was safe. The hot water poured over my body, washing away the memories of the nightmare and relaxing me.

I dressed as modestly as my wardrobe would allow and attached the bracelet to my wrist, ignoring the nausea that swept over me upon doing so. To pass the time I stepped outside my cottage and whistled loudly. The wolves bounded up to me almost immediately.

Time passed by too quickly and before I knew it I was stepping into the bar. Gambol looked up at me smugly and his eyes immediately darted to my wrist. After seeing his bracelet his smile got wider and he stood up.

"See you later boys." He muttered. The bubbling sensation in my stomach was so ferocious I thought I'd have to run to the bathroom to throw up. However, as chaotic as my inner self was feeling I looked calm and happy on the exterior and smiled as he walked towards me. I chanted the words "forget how to feel" over and over in my head in the hope that this poker face would become easier to maintain but with no relief. I had to turn away from him in order to grimace just so some of my feelings could come to the surface. It was like my father always told me. As I sat in his expensive black car I remembered…

_My father knocked me to the floor but before I could regain balance or move away his fist came back down heavily and collided with my face._

"_Stop!" I cried, feeling the blood dripping from my nose and lip. "PLEASE!"_

"_Your attackers will not stop. Begging will only make them angrier. I have TOLD you this!"_

"_But, Dad–"_

"_I told you never to beg. If you have met your match then you will die with honour, you stupid girl." He yelled, grabbing my head and slamming it down onto the stone, kitchen floor. Mom was sitting in the far corner, looking at me in disappointment. I wondered why she didn't stop him but as though reading my mind, she answered me._

"_You must never let love get in the way of anything. This is an important lesson, and no amount of emotion should ever get in the way of anything you do."_

_I coughed painfully and accidentally splattered the floor with blood._

"_You are weak." My dad said, looking at me disgustingly before grabbing me by the hair and sending me flying into the cupboards behind us. I couldn't remember anything after that._

"We're here." Gambol said in his low voice. I looked around. It was a small building and when we walked through the door all I could see was a bar and a few tables, but Gambol took me through another door – that he had the key to – with a pool table at the front, snooker table at the back, a jukebox next to the door and a black-and-white tiled floor.

"This is for me and my boys." He told me as he walked around the table, his fingers stroking the smooth surface. "We don't mind who drinks in the bar, but this place is ours. Can you play pool?"

"I don't know… I haven't tried."

"You've never played before?" He asked, a grin on his face and flirty tone to his voice. I really didn't want to play along but I forced myself to anyway. I placed my hand on the wood of the pool table as I answered.

"You'll have to teach me."

"Okay." He said, looking me up and down as he passed me a pool cue. "Put your hand on the table like this."

He showed me how to hold a pool cue and it took me a while to gain control over it. Several times he touched my hand to move it into the correct position, oblivious that my other hand was digging its nails into the wood of the table.

"You seem different…" Gambol noticed. He had never taken his eyes off my throughout the whole game but I pretended not to notice. My bracelet clinked against the pool table.

"Different?" I asked, trying to seem mildly amused. I felt my mistake as soon as it happened. It was a tiny movement. A movement he would've missed if he hadn't been staring at my face so determinedly. I flinched. I knew immediately that he'd noticed it because his eyes suddenly became filled with awareness and his nostrils flared – the only giveaway to his anger. He turned away, taking his shot with the cue.

"Yeah. Ever since this…" He looked back up at me. "_Scarecrow_ business."

I was ready this time, besides the sinking in my stomach I kept my eyes focused on the pool table as I answered.

"It's a tricky job. If I don't get it right everything will be screwed up. I've just been worried about it."

I think that answer would have been enough for him if he hadn't seen me flinch earlier. He hit the ball and then straightened up, looking back at me.

"What do you think of this guy? Are you working well with him?" He asked as his eyes probed me.

"Well, the guy wears a mask… He's clearly a freak." I answered truthfully. That was what attracted me to him. I took my shot and looked back at Gambol. He wasn't satisfied and I could only imagine what was going on in his possessive, paranoid mind.

By the time we'd finished our games it was dark outside, so instead of going home he took me to the bar. As I stepped inside, Falcone called me over – to my surprise.

He was sat in his usual booth with the Chechen and Maroni. I slid in beside the Chechen as Gambol went over to sit with his thugs. Maroni said nothing, but stared at me as though trying to figure me out. Falcone leaned in towards me.

"You heard of the district attorney?" He asked. I shook my head. "Name's Carl Finch. Now lately, I've been taking in a large drug shipment, and he's been sniffing around. I don't like people that can't keep their noses out of other people's business, and I need you to take care of him for me."

"Where will I find him?"

"I want to make sure you do the job right. So, on Tuesday, you're going to come with me to the docks where I'm taking the shipments because he's planning a raid. I want everything to go smoothly. If Batman comes sniffing around then get out of there."

"No problem."

"I've got news." The Chechen told me and I turned towards him. "On Tuesday I've got business out of town, so you'll take orders from the others if they have any jobs. They'll pay you for it and I'll be back by Monday. I'll meet you tomorrow night after you've done your work."

"I'll call you when it's done. I'm planning on doing it during the day so it'll look natural to the security cameras." I told him and he smiled at me in a way that was almost proud. At this point, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi." Replied a soft, mesmerizing voice. A large grin crossed my face and the Chechen looked at me knowingly and smirked.

"Do you need something?" I asked.

"Come to mine tonight. We can go into work together."

"What time do you start work?" I asked. I could suddenly feel Gambol's eyes burning into my back but Jon's silky voice on the other end of the phone was like anaesthetic – nothing bothered me right now.

"When you run the place, you go in when you want to. I've got a glass of wine waiting for you."

"Alright." I replied, not wanting to give away the fact I was going to see him.

"See you soon."

"Yeah." I replied, trying to remove the grin from my face. I hung up and my cheeks felt hot. I tried to think of a way to leave subtly but the prospect of seeing him made me too excited to waste time.

"See you soon." I said to the Chechen, kissing him on the cheek before sweeping out of the room. I sped home on my motorbike, unaware of anything but the electric sizzling sensation coursing through my veins. I grabbed a small bag as soon as I was back home and threw in some of the seductive pyjamas my mom had bought me as well as the most sophisticated clothes I could find. I unclasped the bracelet and let it drop carelessly to the floor as I grabbed the fake engagement ring and slipped it in the bag too.

Once again I was sailing past the streets of Gotham in a daze, slowing down the closer I got to his house. I suddenly felt nervous. In my haste to go and see him I hadn't checked my hair or make-up at all and I had no idea what I looked like. When I finally pulled up to his house at a snails-pace I saw his silhouette against the curtain, moving towards the front door. I climbed off my bike and grabbed my bag but he walked out towards me and took it out of my hands for me.

"I'll take it upstairs." He told me.

I went to sit on the sofa and saw the two full wine glasses on the table. I picked one up and sipped it as I heard him bound back down the stairs.

"So, how did it go with Gambol?" He asked, picking up his wine and walking over to the fire to light it. My stomach dropped.

"Well, I think he knows something. He's so paranoid that just the fact I couldn't see him Saturday night made him presume something… but he's presumed pretty much right."

He came back to sit next to me and curled up on the sofa. His soft features and staring eyes made my stomach flip and I felt happy and excited again. I couldn't believe he was mine… He nodded seriously but I decided to change the subject.

"Tell me about your fear toxin."

"It's quite incredible. A concentrated dose if not treated immediately can become fatal to the mind. It can only handle so much. It can make people permanently insane." There was a light in his eyes as he talked about it and he couldn't hide the playful smile from his face. My heart raced into overdrive.

"It sounds like a lot of fun." I grinned.

"Oh, it is." He grinned back, excitedly. "Did you get the ring?"

"Yeah, the woman inside was completely horrible but it doesn't matter"

He waited until we were half way through our second glass of wine before he got onto the subject that I hoped he would. His hand stroked mine and he looked into my eyes – I was immediately entranced. It was almost painful to look at him. His voice was smooth and spellbinding. "I want your first time to be special."

"I might be rubbish." I told him, my mind a blur. All my inner fears were let lose for him to find out as though I had inhaled his drug myself.

"You won't be. I don't want to do it when you aren't ready though. I don't want to get carried away if it isn't what you want."

I sat in silence for a moment, needing to say something but not daring to. "I really like you. I think…"

I couldn't say it. How could I even know? I had never had any feelings for anyone before so how could I be sure that I was in love? Perhaps this was how everyone felt… Still, I couldn't imagine Gambol feeling the way about me that I felt for Jon. I was looking down into my wine glass and he pulled my face back to his. My insides squirmed as I knew what would happen to my self-control once I looked into his eyes.

"What do you think?" He asked, his small smile giving me butterflies.

"How many girlfriends have you had?" I asked him.

"I had two that only lasted a few weeks and one that lasted a few months. I didn't have very much time for people when I was becoming a doctor."

"How did they feel?" I asked, looking away again.

"Well, I got together with them more for the sake of having a girlfriend than their personalities. I've never felt anything… instant before."

"I've never felt anything at all." I admitted. His blue eyes blazed with something I couldn't understand but his features remained calm and soft. I could feel the wine working on me now, everything had a certain fuzziness about it and I felt the urge to do something silly. Nothing in particular, just something silly. The fire crackled away in the background and filled the room with warmth. His hand touched my neck and made me shiver as I turned to him. His face was serious and he leant in to kiss me. I managed to wipe the huge grin off my face just in time to press my lips against his. Our tongues moved together and I could tell I was already good at kissing – it just felt so right.

His hand moved slowly and carefully across my shoulder and down my arm until he reached my stomach – which did a back flip as soon as his hand pressed against it. Then he moaned and backed away from me irritably. It took me a while to realise that it was because my phone was ringing and not because I'd done something wrong.

I groaned too as I answered it. I wasn't surprised to hear Gambol's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Are you coming back to the bar?" He asked, although it sounded more like a demand.

"No, I'm visiting a friend I met at the beauty salon and staying at hers until she goes to work."

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. "What's her name?"

"Charlotte. And if you don't mind we're trying to talk about guys we're interested in. It's a relief to be able to tell someone and you're interrupting our girly talk."

"Oh, right." He said, a note of relief and hope in his voice. "I'll leave you girls to it then."

He hung up. Just like that. I stared at the now blank screen on my phone. "He believed me." I told Jon, my voice thick with confusion.

He stared at me for a moment, as though not knowing what to say. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed. You need to relax."

Still confused, I followed his orders and walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind me. I got undressed into my pyjamas which were made of silk and rather revealing. I checked myself out in the mirror but then went into a daydream. Gambol's apparent belief worried me more than his anger. A small tap on the door brought me out of my thoughts.

"You can come in." I told him.

He walked over to me and pulled me into a hug. His hands moved up and down my bare arms and he exhaled deeply as though exercising his self-control. His left hand moved up to my hair which he stroked as he whispered in my ear, "Go and lie on the bed and I'll give you a massage."

I bit my lip in anticipation as I moved over to the bed and lay on my stomach. My breathing had got heavier nervously and I waited. I heard him getting undressed and when he climbed on top of me and straddled my back all I could feel was the soft material of his boxers. I gasped quietly and he paused before tracing his fingers lightly down my back. I shivered again, my pulse quickening. I heard him rub his hands together and when he returned them to my back they were wet – covered in massage oil.

When the smell of the oil reached my lungs I was instantly alert. I had never smelt anything so good before, I had no idea what it was but I took deeper breaths just to try and smell it again. As his hands rubbed my back slowly and soothingly I felt relaxed but at the same time full of energy. I could feel the place between my legs growing incredibly hot as his hands moved underneath my top. He moved them in circles getting further and further out until his little fingers reached a different part of my skin. He leant down against me, his heavy breath hot on my neck as he kissed it lovingly.

He removed his body from mine so that I could turn over to face him. His eyes held my gaze, wanting to make sure I was ready. I reached up and kissed him, noticing how even more amazing his eyes were when he didn't wear his glasses. He pressed his body against mine again, kissing me gently as his hand found mine and he pressed it into the pillow, our fingers laced with each others. His thumb stroked my wrist and the soft touch made me want him more. His other hand roamed my chest softly and he pressed his hardness against me. He let go of my hand and stroked the top of my thigh, making a moan escape my lips. He groaned in response, moving it further up until it reached between my legs. His smooth fingers pushed the silky shorts to one side and brushed over my clit, gasping when he realised how wet I was. As his fingers brushed against me I felt dizzy and tingly, the pressure building up inside me.

"Don't make me wait any longer." I begged. He pulled a condom out of the drawer next to the bed and slipped it on. I wondered how on earth he would fit inside me. He gently slid my silk shorts off and positioned himself at my entrance, his hand stroking my hair.

"It might hurt. Do you want me to do it quickly or slowly?"

"Quickly." I replied without thinking, my lust becoming too much to bear. He kissed my lips and then pushed himself inside me. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure he gave me. He groaned in my ear as he took my virginity and I moaned his name.

He gave me a short time to adjust and he whispered in my ear, so quietly I almost couldn't hear. "I think I love you."

This added even more to my pleasure, if that were possible and I replied, "I love you too."

Then he pushed into me again and again, getting faster each time. I could feel something building up inside me and when he pushed so far inside me that I felt him hit the top it was released and I gasped with pleasure as he pushed faster, finally coming inside me.

My whole body felt as though it was pulsating as he slipped out of me and I could barely move. He kissed my forehead before moving away and cleaning himself up. After a few minutes I pulled my shorts back on and he climbed into bed next to me, scooping me into a huge hug.

"That was amazing." I told him, unable to describe it. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed my cheek.

"I meant what I said." He told me after a few minutes silence.

"Me too." I replied, smiling.

After that we both fell asleep together, and instead of a nightmare I had a wonderful dream.


	7. Chapter 7

I felt a set of lips press against my cheek. "Scarlett… It's time to wake up."

I opened my eyes groggily. It felt too early to wake up. A pair of deep blue eyes shocked me into action. I sat up quickly, almost knocking the breakfast tray from his hands. He climbed back into bed and propped a pillow up for me before placing the tray on my lap and taking something from it. I looked at the warm, syrupy waffles and steaming cup of tea and felt utterly grateful to have found someone so sweet.

I finished the breakfast quickly and hungrily after barely eating yesterday. Jon kissed my neck before getting dressed in his suit and putting his glasses on. He tossed an outfit onto the bed that still had the labels on.

"That's for you. I thought you'd want to look smart."

On the bed was a tight-fitting black skirt that ended just above the knee and a white, fitted shirt with a pair of small black heels. I looked amazing after trying it on although there was no doubt in my mind that my mother wouldn't have approved. I tied my long, dark hair back into a bun and applied natural-looking make-up. I looked quite a lot like a sexy secretary. I slipped the engagement ring onto my finger and picked up a large briefcase that I was going to use to hide the drugs in.

Soft hands slid across my waist and pulled me into an excited and also surprisingly nervous hug. "Are you ready?"

"I feel like a spy or something." I laughed. No wonder he loved doing what he did. Living a double life was incredibly exciting.

He placed his fingers under my chin and pulled my lips towards his. "You look gorgeous."

Then he grabbed his briefcase and I followed him into the car. It only took him a few minutes to drive to work and when I asked if he ever walked he muttered something quietly about the Narrows being too dangerous and pushed open a set of doors with several heavy bolts on the other side, for keeping people in. Arkham Asylum.

He led me forward towards the reception desk and the woman behind it glared at me so viciously I was surprised she hadn't inflicted any pain on me.

"Hello, Catherine. This is my fiancé, Ruby. I thought I'd show her around." Jon said, holding my hand. Catherine's eyes immediately darted to the engagement ring on my finger.

"Fiancé. How lovely. I think most of the nurses had the impression you were… lonely." She replied, although far from looking like she thought it was 'lovely', she looked like she wanted to be sick.

"Well, I'm sure they can stop worrying now." He replied, an amused smile on his face as he led me away from her. As we walked down the corridor some of the in-mates stared at me through the small pane of glass in their heavy metal doors. I had no idea what Charlotte saw in them, but I wondered which ones she had dated.

I followed Jon into an elevator with three other people. A doctor looked at me and then winked at Jon, a movement he had clearly meant to be stealthy. The nurse looked miserably at the ring on my left hand as though she were going to cry and the man strapped to a board on wheels and wearing a straightjacket was muttering about "the Scarecrow". I forced myself not to smile evilly.

The elevator stopped at the next floor up and the nurse got out, her shoulders were hunched and she was making sorrowful sniffing noises. I heard Jon laugh softly under his breath. The doctor couldn't seem to help himself as the doors closed again.

"Good night was it then Jon?" He asked, a huge grin on his face. I resisted the urge to punch it off.

"Yes, it was very nice thank you." Jon replied in his polite, formal voice.

The madman stared at me fearfully and shook his head. "The Scarecrow. The Scarecrow. Screaming. Look out. SCARECROW!"

The doctor laughed pityingly. "The Scarecrow at it again, George?"

"SCARECROW!" The man screeched again.

"Poor fool." He told me, as though I must've been frightened. "He's started the others off. They're all ranting about a scarecrow now. It's crazy how they all copy each other. Get it? Crazy!"

Jon tilted his head threateningly, staring at the doctor with loathing but he didn't seem to notice – his eyes were fixed on my hips.

"Good joke, doctor." I replied, my smile mocking him. "Is it your good sense of humour that makes you so popular with the ladies?"

Jon laughed appreciatively but the doctor seemed oblivious to the sarcasm. "Well, I do have a certain charm." He replied, forcing his eyes away from my chest. "You want to watch her Jon; she'll be after me next."

"Well, that would be a waste of a ring." He told him and for the first time his eyes darted to my left hand.

"Oh, well… yes. Uh… This is my floor." He said, hastily exiting the elevator and wheeling the patient out too.

As the door closed and the elevator moved again all you could hear was. "NOT THE MAAAAAAASK!"

Jon laughed, the excited glow back in his eyes as the fingers that were grasping his briefcase stroked the handle.

"Is it in there?" I asked, shocked. I hadn't thought about his mask since seeing his face but the thought of it gave me a devilish excitement that had little to do with the job ahead of me and a lot to do with the events of last night.

He gave a small nod although his mind was probably far away from where my imagination was headed. I could tell he was worried about me doing this job.

"I'm the best the mob has. I'm sure it'll be a piece of cake. Besides, smuggling something out of a building is nothing compared to what I usually do. The Chechen isn't even worried about this job." I whispered. "I've got to kill the district attorney tomorrow night, for Falcone."

His eyes widened at this. "These men have guns. I've heard you don't use them."

"Guns are cowardly."

"That may be so, but you won't stand a chance against them. You should use them."

"I didn't spend so many years of my life training to pick up a gun and shoot people." I said, my voice rising slightly.

"Keep your voice down! I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried." He muttered.

As we left the elevator, he took me into the staffroom to show me to people so they recognised my face and wouldn't be suspicious if they saw me on my own. It was a boring room. It had a dirty grey carpet and off-white walls with old leather chairs dotted around and some cheap kitchen appliances. A group of doctors were huddled around a table in the middle of the room as a small TV attached to the wall buzzed in the background.

"Heard of the Joker?" The guy asked Jon. He shook his head and led me over to sit at the table. "He's in the paper. Me and Charlie have a bet on. We reckon that he's going to be brought here as soon as he shows his face. Stanley thinks he's not going to show his face and he's been scared off by the police."

"Where have you heard of him?" Jon asked in the educated tone of voice he used at work.

"Well… he's not exactly _in_ the paper, but his card is. He killed a couple of people and left a calling-card, so the guy's obviously got a screw loose. Who would do that? Apparently it was all theatrically done, he painted their faces or something. I don't know but the police have been trying to hush it up and there's been no mention of him since."

"Well, my bet is the police kill him. They're getting too carried away with our patients lately." Jon replied.

"Can I place a bet?" I asked, innocently. The men looked away from the newspaper and to me for the first time, then towards Jon for an explanation.

"Meet my fiancé, Ruby."

"A pleasure to meet you. Go ahead; although I doubt you know anything about crime like this, we get it all the time." The doctor replied patronizingly.

"I'm trained in law actually, but I haven't got a job yet." I replied, and they seemed to take me more seriously.

"Go on then, Ruby. What do you want to bet?"

I decided to go for something extravagant and ridiculous that obviously seemed foolish. They would decide I was stupid and incapable of robbing them blind so it suited me all round. "I bet that this… Joker guy? I bet he is secretly a genius and the police won't be able to catch him and he'll kill go on a mass murder spree Gotham. I bet even the Batman won't be able to catch him."

They shook their heads pityingly but replied. "If that's what you want to bet…"

The day passed rather monotonously. Jon poisoned one of the new patients with his drug but refused to let me watch in case I inhaled some myself. When it was close to the end of the day, Jon led me into a store cupboard that contained shelves and shelves of medicine. He locked the door behind him.

"These boxes haven't been counted in the stock yet because they just arrived this afternoon. If you take half of each box I'll take the rest and put them on the shelves and then put the boxes in the recycling tray.

"I thought this was going to be hard." I complained.

"Well, if you weren't a woman in a relationship with me and pretending to be my fiancé it would have been."

He opened the first box quickly and shook the small cartons of pills inside. "Happy pills." He told me grinning.

The other things he gave me were strong drugs with a side effect to induce enjoyable hallucinations to "calm the patients down" and some painkillers so powerful they virtually made you numb and had traces of opium in. When the briefcase I had could take no more he loosened his tie and untucked his shirt before making me look scruffier. When we left we received another wink from the perverse doctor that was in the elevator with us but luckily no one else saw and he definitely didn't suspect anything other than us enjoying ourselves in there. As soon as we darted back into his office he neatened his clothes again and I straightened mine out too.

"Take those straight to the Chechen. When you're finished we can celebrate tonight." He smiled, placing a sensual kiss on my neck with a hand resting on my waist. I grinned at him knowingly and we left the office together, both of us grinning slyly at the prospect of the night ahead of us.

It was no trouble getting out as no one bothered to search us. A rather dull job, mainly because it had worked out exactly as we had planned.

I got Jon to drop me off at Falcone's bar, albeit reluctantly. I kissed him on the cheek as I left and stepped inside. A scanned the room but the Chechen wasn't there. Thankfully, neither was Gambol. I turned to leave but Falcone called me over first.

"Now, about tomorrow night." He began, and it took me a second to remember that he had a job for me. "I want it all going right. I don't want links back to me. If Batman shows up you've got ten seconds to get back in the car or else I'm leaving. You understand?"

"Yeah. You can leave me and drive off. Don't hang around. It's fun fighting someone with skill every now and again." I replied. He gave me one of his hard stares that told me he didn't like the fact I was more skilled then anyone working directly for him.

"I want you to meet me here at seven o'clock. Alright?"

I nodded and got up to leave. As soon as I was outside I called the Chechen.

"I've got the stuff." I told him.

"How was it?" He asked.

"Incredibly boring. Where do you want to meet?"

"I'm finishing packing. I'll meet you at the back of the abandoned warehouse in an hour."

I hung up, remembering that he was leaving me for a while. I guessed he meant the warehouse at the bottom of the hill from the forest I lived in.

I began to walk back home but, unfortunately, a familiar car parked outside the bar. I tried to walk faster, as though I hadn't seen him but he called me over.

"Hey, Red." Gambol said a few of his favourite thugs stepped out of the car. He looked me up and down. "You look different."

"Oh… Yeah." I replied, realising how against my tastes this looked.

"Did you have fun with Stephanie last night?"

"Yeah, it was great." I replied, wanting to get away as quickly as possible. "I've got to go and get ready because I'm meeting the Chechen in an hour. I'll catch up with you later."

The strange expression on his face was etched into my mind as I turned away and walked home. The fury in his eyes but at the same time a sickening smile. I thought about it until I reached the bottom of the hill to the forest – and then I stopped dead in my tracks.

_Stephanie._

He had said Stephanie. I'd told him Charlotte. I stood there in silence for a moment. My heart pumped painfully against my chest.

_Why?_ I wanted to scream out. _Why does Jon make me so pathetic?_

If I had even thought about what Gambol had said I would have known in an instant. Jon was no good for me. I groaned inwardly and stood there nervously until the sound of the birds and the welcoming forest calmed me down and I stepped into my house, stroking the Alpha wolf on the way.

I got changed from my uniform-style clothing and but on something more casual – a pair of black shorts and a warm fluffy jumper, (the only jumper I had been allowed to get me through winter). I washed away my natural make-up and applied some more. It was pretty similar, except I had darker mascara and more eyeliner as well as some clear lip balm.

As I stepped back into my bedroom, I noticed the door to the garage was ajar. A door that I always kept locked. In my rush to see Jon had I even left that open? I scowled at my stupidity as I turned the garage light on to add to my notes about Gambol and Jon.

Jon was on the back wall – the smallest wall that he occupied himself. The Chechen, Maroni, Falcone and Gambol had a corner of the wall each that was opposite the door.

Batman was on the wall with the door and… I screamed in shock and ran to get a knife. I crept around my house, searching for an intruder although something inside me knew whoever it was wasn't here anymore.

I went back into the garage. There were only two large spaces left on the wall: one next to Batman and one next to Jon. The one next to Batman had been written on by someone else in what looked like red paint.

"MY SPACE HERE!!"

My fingers traced over the words but the paint was dry. I wondered if the person knew I wasn't going to be back until later today. Maybe he or she knew I was on a job. I returned the knife to the kitchen drawer and sat on the old sofa, my mind spinning with thoughts. Who could it be? I couldn't think of anyone. No one other than heads of the mob would dare do that and I knew them all. It obviously wasn't someone with good intentions or they wouldn't have broken into my house to leave an ominous message.

Then it occurred to me that either they knew I had notes in my garage or they came here for a different reason. If they did know then they must have been watching me at some point because I haven't told anyone. I doubted they had come for a different reason because firstly, nothing else had been tampered with and no other messages had been made and secondly the person that wrote the message had brought the paint with them and unlocked my door.

So someone was watching me. I rubbed my neck as I glanced around uneasily. When had I let my guard down so badly that I hadn't noticed myself being watched? I refused to believe I was becoming so bad at something I had once been so good at. No. The person that left the message must be as skilled as me. As skilled as Batman.

It would have required him to know that I was going out and that I had notes in my garage. I didn't even have windows in my garage so I couldn't have been seen writing them. Perhaps it was a person that found me predictable. It was definitely someone I didn't know. If I did know them they would already be on that wall. I thought back to all the people I had encountered and my head reeled. As I searched for an answer my thoughts became more ludicrous.

_The taxi driver… Charlotte… The engagement ring woman… The bank manager…_

My phone buzzed loudly, making me jump. I answered it quickly.

"Hello?"

"Where are you? I've been waiting." The Chechen's voice responded.

"Oh! Sorry… I'm coming now." I replied, hanging up.

I grabbed some shoes and the briefcase and ran to meet him.

"What's the matter?" He asked. My anxiety must have been obvious on my face. I looked around edgily, searching for someone that was either not there or out of site.

"I'm being followed."

The Chechen looked around angrily and protectively. "Where is he?"

His reaction made me smile, knowing I could always depend on someone to care. "Well, I don't know. Someone broke into my house… but they left a message about something I haven't told anyone and it looks as though they broke in just to leave the message. It was too well done for it to be sloppy work. Someone must know a lot about me."

He surprised me by pulling me into a tight hug and kissing my head. "It's a bad time for me to leave."

I hugged him back as he looked around to see the person that might be watching me. Then he turned to me seriously. "If you need to talk to someone, talk to Maroni. Don't trust the others so much."

"Here." I said, handing him the briefcase. "You can take them in the case. There are happy pills, hallucinogenics and painkillers that make you practically unable to feel anything."

"Well, it's better than the last stuff he gave me." There was a pause. "Will you be okay?"

I laughed. "I think I can handle myself. He can't be worse than Batman, right?"

"I guess not." The Chechen smiled back. "I've got to go. I've got a long drive tomorrow."

I hugged him goodbye and walked back home, the forest suddenly seeming more ominous.

I packed to go to Jon's but not with my usual excitement. Not only had the mysterious messenger dampened my spirits but I hadn't forgotten about something that was preying on my mind: Gambol.

I could still remember his worrying smile and glare. I could tell he was planning something but at the moment I felt too exhausted to care. So exhausted that I felt I'd rather drown my sorrows at the bar than have a romantic evening in.

Still, I packed slowly and monotonously, like clockwork as I pulled the usual things into my bag. When I couldn't delay any longer I stepped outside. As if sensing my mood the wolves were there and the Alpha came towards me and licked my hands. I knelt down and stroked behind his ears.

"Did you see who came into my house?" I asked him.

He looked for me at a moment and then lay down with his head resting on my lap. I laughed softly and let him stay there whilst I thought. My eyes surveyed the forest. I sighed tiredly before moving towards by bike and turning back to the wolf.

"The next time I get a visitor, kill whoever it is." He stared at me for another second before sensing some prey and chasing after it. I swung my leg over my bike, casting one last glance over the forest, and sped away.

When I arrived he came out to greet me again but I couldn't even manage a smile.

"What's the matter?" He asked, worriedly.

"I'll tell you inside." I replied, then realising the person could be anywhere I looked around again. This would drive me crazy. I felt like I was being hunted. If I just knew who it was…

Jon led me inside and made me a milky hot chocolate to calm me down. I sipped it slowly as I told him about the break-in and decided it was safe to tell him about my garage.

"And it said 'my space here'." I finished. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then jumped into his analysis.

"Well, you have made the papers once or twice as Red. Maybe it's a stalker who thinks he's worthy of a place on your wall."

"He?"

"It's a common male thing to boost their ego. If it was a female fan I doubt they would be so demanding because they would see you at least as an equal whereas a male would likely see himself as someone you should be wary of. Also, the way it was written is a more common male style than female style.

"Still, that wouldn't explain how they knew about a room with no windows that you had told no one about. Surely, they would presume it was an ordinary garage. I think it's likely someone who has studied, either professionally or freely, people's behaviour. They must've have found out a lot about you to gage that you are the sort of person that would do that although your reputation as a temptress and deviant could make that conclusion more easy to come to.

"I definitely think the person is someone seeking power like me rather than like the mob. It's interesting he sought the place next to Batman – it suggests he also finds himself an equal with him."

My eyes grew wide as I let out a shaky laugh. "I had no idea you were so… clever."

He laughed in return. "Thanks for the compliment. I wonder… if it could be the Joker."

"Who?"

"The guy that you placed a bet on."

"The one that vanished into oblivion? I doubt it. If he isn't active he wouldn't be sneaking around and leaving a message on my wall he'd be out there causing havoc to grab the public's attention. Maybe it's one of Gambol's men who thinks that he's as good or better than everyone else."

"Well, that is far more likely."

"He knows where I live too… He got one of his thugs to send a bracelet to my door." As though something snapped in my mind, I added, "_And_ he's planning something."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, more concerned now than before.

"He asked me how my night with Stephanie was and I said it was good and he looked really angry but was smiling in a twisted way." I replied. Jon's expression was blank. "I told him I was with Charlotte but I completely forgot so he knew I was lying."

Jon's face fell as everything clicked into place. "So whoever wrote that message is going to attack you or will be a part of Gambol's plan."

"Who would be stupid enough to attack me? I've seen them all and they've seen me fight and they're hopeless. I mean, I'm a match for Batman so why would they risk it?"

"If it's on Gambol's orders they'd do it anyway."

There was a solemn silence which I broke angrily. "I fucking hate him."

After another short pause Jon said, "Do you have a t-shirt to go with those shorts?"

I nodded curiously.

"Go and get changed and meet me in the car." He told me, placing a swift kiss on my lips as he went upstairs to get changed himself. I finished the last of my hot chocolate and brooded over Gambol and how low he would stoop.

I finally went to put my t-shirt on and got into the car. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere you can relax." He replied and set off. We roamed Gotham further north than I usually travelled and parked at a random car park. He held my hand and led me through the streets. It took me a while to realise we were heading to the source of some loud music.

We entered a large club with a huge dance floor that was heaving with people. He grabbed my hand tight as we squeezed in between them to find a space large enough for us to dance. The music thumped loud and fast through the speakers as he pressed our bodies close together. We danced for what felt like hours, his hands moving over my body pressed against each other so hard it was as though we were glued together. His breathing grew heavier from exhaustion and wanting. When dancing got too hard we raced back home in silence as fast as he dared drive.

We ran to his bedroom, removing each other's clothes on the way and collapsed on the bed as soon as we reached it, our hands exploring each other's body desperately. The rest happened quickly but it was the most pleasure I had ever had in my life and from the look on his face I'd say the experience was the same for him. We lay next to each other, panting hard. When he regained his breath he rolled towards me and kissed me passionately. My worries left as he turned the light off and held me close. I was too weak.


	8. Chapter 8

I was awoken again to a delicious breakfast that Jon shared with me. Before he went to work he took out a camera and took two photos of us together – they were Polaroid so we had one each. I gave him an extra big kiss for helping me forget about all my problems.

We would have spent the whole day together but Jon had to go to work.

"Have a good day." I said as I revved the engine of my bike.

"You too." He said, and then added worriedly, "But please be careful."

I smiled as I put my helmet on and drove home. The further away I got from him though the more the warmth and confidence he gave me faded. I dreaded going back inside my house because it felt haunted now that the message was on the wall. I went to look at it as soon as I got back and hatred bubbled inside me. Gambol was taking things way too far. I was sure he wasn't allowed to break into another mob-member's house.

I decided to mention it to the Chechen but my call diverted straight to his answer phone. Disappointed, I put my phone down.

To calm my nerves I ran myself a hot bath filled with bubbles and salts. I lay there for what felt like hours until the water had gone cold. I tried to reason with myself.

How much of a threat could Gambol actually pose? He couldn't kill me; I'm too trained for that. He couldn't do anything obvious because the Chechen wouldn't allow it. All he could do is make empty threats and make my life a bit uncomfortable – but still nothing that would really matter.

I washed my hair slowly and made myself some lunch as I got out of the bath. The day passed fairly quickly and before I knew it I was wearing my Red Riding Hood outfit and applying my usual make-up to go with it. The difference in my outfit now was that instead of wearing sharp heels I wore black and red converse – much easier to run in since Batman had made his appearance. To make up for the loss of heels I carried a small knife with me – my preferred choice of weapon anyway.

I made sure to lock my house securely before riding to the bar. As soon as I stepped inside heads turned to look at me in my strange outfit. Gambol's eyes roamed the areas of my body he was most interested in. Maroni had raised an eyebrow and was giving me his usual intense stare as though he were figuring something out about me. Two policemen in the corner looked away – they knew what this outfit meant and they pretended they hadn't noticed.

Falcone stared with mixed emotions. I think part of him felt secure that he had the best fighter working for him and that I was taking it seriously. But another part of him felt exasperated because he couldn't understand me and he was slightly wary of that. He downed the last of his drink and stood up silently. Without a word he placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the room – showing everyone he was in charge.

I didn't have a problem with this because he _was_ in charge and if things went well and I got a few more jobs maybe I'd be working _with_ the Chechen instead of _for_ him.

Before he stepped into his car – his personal driver waiting with the engine humming in the background – he turned to me. "Remember what I said: If Batman shows up then get out of there. I don't want any chances. Just kill him and go. I'll be watching with you but if the Batman shows up then I'm leaving and you're on your own."

"Okay." I said seriously, showing him that he could trust me. He took one more uncertain glance at my outfit before stepping into the back of his car.

I followed on my bike, the wind whipping around my hair and legs. I didn't wear any protective gear whilst I was on a job and the engine burned but the pain only added to my excitement. Something about the adrenaline rush I got from being able to kill someone made any pain feel oddly pleasurable. It set the mood for the fight ahead and just seemed… appropriate. My father taught me long ago that if you couldn't learn to deal with pain and even enjoy it then you would die. Simple as that.

As the pain intensified so did my excitement and pleasure. The cold wind that raged against me was an odd sensation as it mingled with the burning so in many ways the pain was impossible to feel anyway. Falcone's driver was moving at an excruciatingly slow pace and it seemed like hours before we reached the familiar docks where I killed the priest. I parked my bike in a hidden area slightly away from the docks so that I could run and reach it with more time to spare than if I had to start my engine whilst being face-to-face with Batman.

Falcone got out of his car and I heard him tell the driver to keep the engine running. He had also decided it was best to leave the door open.

"Listen." He said. I could hear quiet voices not far from here. "The men he's with are working for me. Besides for them he's on his own so he should be no trouble."

I nodded silently and climbed on top of one of the skips and crept across the cold metal soundlessly. I dropped down dramatically just behind Finch and he turned around with a gasp. His hand darted towards his gun but before he could reach it my knife plunged into his stomach.

"Don't you know better than to go snooping around? Hmm?" I asked as he croaked in pain. I dragged the knife higher up his chest, slicing through his flesh and organs. I saw a flash of black out of the corner of my eye.

Carl Finch's eyes grew wide with pain and the knowledge that he was going to die – that he had been set up.

"Your friend Batman is here." I told him, my voice steady and my eyes savouring every moment of his rapidly vanishing life. "But I think he's going to be too late, don't you?"

I dragged the knife higher and he let out a strained groan. He tried to say something that sounded like 'stop' but as I dragged it higher blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped onto me but I slid my knife out of his body and let him fall to the floor.

I glanced around, wondering why Batman hadn't come to save Finch. There was only one obvious answer – he didn't know I was here.

My suspicions were confirmed as I heard a screech and saw Falcone being dragged away over the huge metal crates. He was already too far away to reach. I ran back to his car and the thugs he hired to set Finch up followed. I leant down to the driver's window which he wound down for me.

"Are you stupid? Why didn't you drive away with him?"

"He didn't make it to the car. I'm… I'm sorry." He replied nervously.

"Well, he's gone now! He's GONE."

As the words sunk in I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know him that well and he hadn't been that fond of me but going back to his bar and telling all his men… I was worried they would blame me. I tried calling the Chechen again but his phone was still turned off so I left a text message instead.

"Take these two home." I told him as they got into the back of the car. He nodded, glad to get away from the scene and drove away faster than he did on the way here. I made my way back to my bike slowly, wanting to stall the moment as long as possible.

Time passed too quickly again, when I least wanted it to before I had parked my bike outside the bar and locked it. I paused outside, deciding on what to say. A tramp nearby was warming his hands on a make-shift fire and was staring at me in fear. I caught my reflection in the dark-tinted windows and realised why. Both my legs were stained with blood. As sadistic as I was, I liked it. I'd never admit this to anyone though and least of all Jon. I doubted he would understand.

I walked into the bar and immediately silence fell inside. All eyes were on me in shock. Gambol was looking confused and slightly disturbed. I walked over to the policemen sharing guilty glances with each other.

"Get out." I demanded, my voice level and filled with a deadly seriousness that they couldn't ignore. They scurried out immediately. Ignoring Gambol I went over to sit with Maroni and the blonde girl his arm was around. Without looking at me he took his wallet from his pocket and took out a thick bundle of money.

"Why don't you see if you can get yourself something nice?" He told the blonde girl who recognised the dismissal and glared at me as she left.

He looked at me, waiting. The bar was still filled with silence. I didn't want to announce it in here. "We need a meeting. Now."

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, taking in my sober expression. He stood up, nodding towards Gambol. The people directly working with the mob followed and there were quite a few.

"I own a restaurant." Maroni told me, taking charge. "We can use the kitchens. Meet in about twenty minutes. Red, you follow me."

So as everyone called taxis or their drivers, I followed Maroni's car on my motorbike until we reached his restaurant. I parked it outside and locked it. Maroni took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the door, quickly pressing the code for the alarm. He turned on the lights and walked into the kitchen which had several tables set up to make a large rectangle with chairs around it as though it were regularly used for meetings.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Batman got Falcone. He didn't realise I was there and he got to him before I'd finished killing Finch. By the time I had turned around he was dragging Falcone away."

"It's not a problem." He replied, confusing me.

"It isn't a problem that Falcone's been caught by Batman?"

He shook his head. "He knew this would happen, he planned for it. He'll plead insanity and get sent to Arkham – blackmail a few people, stay for a few months and get out. He left me in charge."

This was the first conversation I'd had with Maroni and he actually was really likeable. What I liked most was that he talked to me like an equal, unlike Gambol and Falcone.

"That makes me the head of the crime family." He continued. "And the first thing I'm doing is putting you as a head girl."

My mouth dropped and a grin spread across my face. "Just like that?"

"Falcone didn't know what he was doing, you're clearly on a level with the rest of the head guys he was just scared of you. The way it works is I need to make sure the Chechen's happy with that and so you won't get promoted until he comes back. You'll have to take orders from the other heads because that was what he ordered you to do and he isn't here to say otherwise. He'll be back next week though so it hardly matters."

As the rest of the guys came in he told them to sit down and they followed his orders as though they already knew what was happening. When everyone was here Maroni sat at the head of the table.

"Falcone's been taken by Batman, now you know the plan, he's going to get sent to Arkham get therapy for a few months and then get sent out. Until he does, I've been left in charge. Things are going to run pretty much the same but meetings will take place here and when the Chechen comes back, Red's going to be made a head. Anyone got a problem with that?"

Nobody seemed to object; in fact some people looked happy about it. Besides for one person – one of Gambol's thugs.

"But… She's a girl." He started.

"What does that matter?" Gambol asked in his deep voice.

"No, it's okay." I interrupted. "If he's got a point to make let him make it."

The guy looked around everyone but avoided my gaze as though I wasn't there. "She can't match up to us. I mean be realistic, she's not even a normal sized woman – she's tiny. What does she know about the way things work in Gotham, she's only lived here for a few weeks!"

"Would you like to test the theory that I can't match up to you?"

"She's got a conspiracy with Batman." He added elaborately. "That's why Falcone's gone and not her!"

"If you don't like it, you can leave." Maroni said, with a tone of finality. He quickly stopped complaining. "That's how things are going to run. If anyone's got any questions ask now but otherwise you can go."

No one did and so we left. I returned home, thrilled at my fast promotion to head girl. As soon as I was home I called Jon to tell him the news.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me."

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah, Falcone got caught by Batman but he didn't even realise I was there. Maroni's in charge now and when the Chechen gets back I'll be promoted to head girl!"

"That's good." He said, but I could tell he didn't share my enthusiasm. He didn't understand what the mob meant to me. "Do they not care about Falcone?"

"Oh, he's going to plead insanity."

"He is?" Jon asked, alert now. "I'll be staying late at work tomorrow then. I won't be able to see you."

"That's alright, I've got my photograph." I laughed. "I'll stick it next to your section in my garage."

After hanging up I took a quick shower to get the blood off me and put my outfit into the washing machine. I fell asleep after this.

Wednesday passed uneventfully. I spent the day tidying the house and updating my notes again. The blank patch of wall with the painted message was now less of a threatening omen. I barely noticed it anymore. Once I was a head girl there was _nothing _Gambol could do to me and I wouldn't have to remain in his good books anymore! Which meant no more flirting and I wouldn't have to wear that revolting bracelet. I slept that night in the highest spirits I had been in since arriving in Gotham. I felt like I was on a cloud and nothing could bother me.

I woke up on Thursday morning and took a long shower after breakfast. I had just finished getting dressed, applying make-up and curling my hair when my phone buzzed on my bedside table. I groaned as I read the name on the screen. It was Gambol.

"Hi." I answered in a cheery voice, as though I was happy he had called.

"Come and meet me this afternoon."

I held back a sigh. "Where?"

"Arkham. We should visit Falcone."

"Arkham?" I asked, worried. Everyone there knew me as Jon's fiancé.

"There isn't a problem is there?"

"No…" I replied. "Not at all."

"Meet at two o'clock. Don't be late." He ordered and hung up.

I walked to the bathroom mirror, taking a comb with me. I gave myself a middle-parting so that my side-fringe covered one of my eyes completely. Then I altered my make-up making the eye-liner curve upwards at the outer corner of my eye. It was hopeless.

I checked my watch… I thought there might just be enough time.

I quickly changed what I was wearing to a loose t-shirt and the shortest pair of denim shorts I could find along with some killer heels. That way people would be looking at my legs rather than my face. After that I started the ignition of my bike and raced away, knowing where I wanted to go.

As I parked my bike and rushed into the salon and a pair of grey eyes widened in recognition.

"Ruby?" Charlotte asked, a huge grin on her face. "I thought you weren't coming back. How did it go?" She asked.

I pulled her into a closet filled with different labelled bottles and closed the door. She looked at me confused but eager to find out what was so secretive. I just hoped I could trust her.

"I'm doing something really important." I began and her eyes shone with avid curiosity. "I have an hour to make myself look completely different and I mean _completely_ different. I need… hair dye and a different style and… I just need to look so different that people who have only met me once won't recognise me.

Thankfully, she took me seriously and nodded, deep in thought. "Black hair I think… is it just today you need to look different?"

"Yes."

"So a one-use dye. It'll wash out when you next wash your hair. You've got hazel eyes so I want to give you… bright green contacts. You can wear some fake glasses too. You're pale so I'll use a foundation shade quite a bit darker." She replied as she grabbed a few bottles from the shelves.

"Have you done this before?" I asked, shocked at how quickly she had become helpful. She just grinned secretively to herself.

"I have a private room. I'm doing this on the condition I get to hear all about your date."

She led me into the private room and mixed some liquids together to form a strangely purple liquid. She rubbed this all over my head.

"Don't worry, it turns out black. I'll go as quickly as possible so start talking."

"Well… I met him. He's so… _gorgeous_! Seriously. His eyes are such a strange blue… I've never seen eyes like his. It feels like you're falling into them when you look at them. And he's got lovely dark hair. He's just amazing."

"You're lucky! The only good looking ones I have had turned out to be insane." She said. I laughed as I thought of the Scarecrow mask and his fear toxin.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of insane." I grinned. "Men don't possess many interesting qualities from what I've seen. All they seem to want to do is stare at your body and make sure everyone knows they've claimed you. At least insane people have other qualities."

"Like pyromania, homicidal tendencies and the desire to kidnap their previous girl friends. I can see the attraction."

"When you say it like that it sounds bad." I laughed.

"It's only bad when they get put into Arkham."

All happy thoughts gone my stomach churned as I remembered. Now the problem of them recognising me was taken care of I began to think of why he wanted me there. He sounded so sinister.

I started to panic. Did he know about Jon? Was he going to wreck Jon's life by trying to prove that Jon was the Scarecrow? I couldn't understand it. If Gambol wanted to attack Jon he'd do it in private. I reached in my purse for my phone when Charlotte had gone to get the make-up. I routed around but I couldn't find it to warn Jon, I must've left it at home.

"What's the matter?" Charlotte asked when she got back with a table full of make-up.

"Have you ever dealt with someone that has jealousy problems? I mean… really obsessive jealousy, even though he isn't with you?"

"I wish." She replied wistfully.

"I mean someone that's dangerously obsessive."

"I wish." She repeated. "I thought you liked danger?"

"I mean someone that you don't like." I replied, realising I had missed that detail out.

"Ah. You could call the police." Then she snorted with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"I may be the only person sad enough to watch the news at three in the morning, Red, but you were on it. The news channel got in so much trouble for it because the cops want to keep everything quiet these days – to keep everyone's spirits up."

"Oh." I replied, stunned. I had no idea what to say.

"I hoped you'd come back. I can get a decent conversation out of you without having to hear about the latest fashions and celebrities and how they want Batman to save them. It's pathetic. It'll drive _me_ insane soon enough. I wish I could find a man from the mob but they don't let anyone close. I want a man that-"

"Kills people?" I asked, recognising the sadistic gleam in her eye.

"Well, yeah. I know I've got a screw loose but someone has to like that sort of person and I guess it's me."

"What about Batman?"

"Can you imagine how he'd be in the sack? Talk about anti-climatic."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you still a virgin?"

"No." I replied with a smug grin.

"What was it like?"

"It was really romantic." I replied. "He was so sweet and gentle."

She looked at me, horrified. "Gentle? He was _gentle_? I'd slap him and tell him to get out. Where's the fun in that it would be so slow and dull."

"Hey!" I complained, feeling the need to defend Jon. "He's a sweet guy, he's like that, he just wanted it to be special."

"Yeah. But there's special… and there's _special_." She replied with a wink.

"Define special."

"Violent. Frightening. Passionate. Lustful. _Special_."

"What, like being attacked whilst having sex?"

"Exactly. You're getting it."

She pulled my hair back as she washed the dye out, being careful not to get any water onto my face. She didn't want to get foundation streaks all over me. I was left to contemplate what she'd said and I thought about how much I liked the burning of my motorbike engine on my legs. But that was different! That was the anticipation of doing a job.

As though receiving an electric shock, my mind snapped back to reality. Gambol. She dried my hair and curled it but left it in its original style, insisting nobody would recognise me with contacts and glasses on.

When I finally looked in the mirror I had to agree with her. Although I could recognise myself I was confident that no one in the Asylum would. I jumped out of my seat as she told me the time. I had five minutes to get there. I thanked Charlotte for helping me on such short notice and gave her a huge tip before running back onto my motorbike. The sound of the engine tore through the streets as I raced towards Arkham. The scenery went past in a blur and although there was nothing I wanted more than to delay this time move unreasonably fast.

Gambol was waiting outside. I don't think he recognised me at first – if it hadn't been for my motorbike he probably would have thought it was someone else.

"What's with the disguise?" He asked. I decided honesty was the best option right now.

"I've been doing a job here. It would blow everything if they recognised me with you."

He didn't say anything else but led me inside. The receptionist didn't even look up as he walked past. He led me down a corridor with such confidence that it was obvious he had been here before. We stopped outside a huge glass window looking into a room with a heavily bolted door.

Inside a man was strapped to a table. It was Falcone. I pressed my hand against the glass, needing to check that this was real and not a nightmare. Then Falcone uttered a word. Just one heartbreaking word.

"Scarecrow."

It was as though everything inside me had fallen apart. My stomach dropped. My heart missed several beats. My brain fuzzed numbly.

"Kill him." Gambol whispered in my ear.

But my brain hadn't registered what he said. I was staring desperately at Falcone, praying he would say something else. Anything else.

He continued uttering the word over and over again and each time felt like another painful stab to my body. No matter how greatly I hoped he would say something else he repeated it like a sick joke.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, my voice hardly a whisper.

"It seems that the Scarecrow, the guy you were working with, poisoned him with the fear drug. He'll stay that way forever now. We can't let him get away with this. He has to die."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't. All the words I wanted to say caught in my throat as Falcone kept muttering that hideous word.

"It would be a shame if not only did you miss out on your promotion next week, but you got thrown from the mob entirely. You see, I'm still your superior. If I need you to do a job then you have no choice but to do it."

I couldn't remember ever crying before but tears flowed hot and fast down my cheeks. I turned and walked away and my walk quickly turned into a run. I raced through the corridor throwing the fake glasses onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" The receptionist called after me but her concern fell upon deaf ears. Nothing made sense to me at the moment. Nothing. What was happening?

I couldn't think so I let my feelings control my actions. I started the engine of my bike and tore through the streets with more urgency than ever before. I wound up parked outside Jon's house. I hammered on the door, loudly and earning many looks from the heavily curtained windows of neighbouring houses. When they saw my frantic expression they quickly hid inside their houses again – after all, the Narrows was a dangerous place to live.

Of course Jon wasn't in. He was back at the Asylum with Gambol and Falcone and all the things I wish I had never heard. Emotional torment giving me more strength than usual, it only took one kick to break down the front door.

The front door remained wide open as I broke down in the living room – clutching a cushion with so much feeling that I thought it could make everything better. Somehow, the world couldn't be going so wrong and with every tear that fell from my face surely it would be made right?

Wind blew angrily through the front door but I couldn't feel the chill. After crying for so long I shook involuntarily. It took a lot of self-control to stop myself from rocking back and forth. Couldn't the world sense my pain? Hasn't it been made right?

_Do you not think that this happened to the loved ones of every person you murdered heartlessly? _My thoughts taunted, working against me. Of course I had been trained very carefully not to sympathise with my victims. It was clear that my parent's didn't think I had enough emotion in me to collapse so badly. Before Jon, I would have agreed with them. I probably would have even prided myself on the powerful ability to forget how to feel.

But that was all undone now. It dawned on me how no one had ever truly cared besides Jon. Jon would understand. He'd help me – he loves me! He could leave. He could just disappear. I could stay with the mob like I was so desperate to do and we could stay in touch – we could even meet up in secret. I wouldn't have to… I couldn't think the word.

But reasoning more powerful than my sorrow overtook me and I knew that it would be okay now. I kept repeating that in my head to cover up the horrific, tormenting memory of Falcone's voice.

Everything turned slowly black outside as night fell. I continued to clutch the cushion for dear life as the wind continued to rage through the front door – still left wide open.

Eventually, a car stopped outside the house, the headlights turned off and a door slammed. His footsteps were cautious as he examined the front door.

"Who's there?" He asked in a threatening voice.

"Jon?" I replied, although it sounded weak and shaky. I had never heard my voice as weak as this before. Indeed, even he seemed unsure as he closed the door quietly and stepped slowly into the living room.

As soon as he caught my face he read the signs that were clearly familiar to him and this made him feel safer. I could see it in his eyes as he relaxed. He dealt with people in this state all the time and must have had ample training on how to handle the situation.

He flicked on a light and his face was full of worry as he slowly came and sat beside me. "What's the matter?"

His soothing voice didn't help my dull sadness but it did help my confidence. I knew he would understand. Before I could string a sentence together in my head he continued. "Does the Chechen not want you to do the job with me anymore?"

It was ironic. I decided – for my own sanity – to start explaining slowly so that I wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotion. Still, as I tried I let out a sob. "There's… There's been a… A change of plan."

His face turned seriously, although still filled with caring. "Falcone?"

"They want me to kill you, Jon" I sobbed, tears falling from my cheeks again. I couldn't contain it anymore. "If I don't, I'll get kicked out of the mob!"

"Oh." He replied, his face now indifferent.

A silence fell over me and once again my brain wasn't able to understand the situation. "What do you mean 'oh'? Don't you understand how serious this is? They want you dead."

"It isn't so bad." He replied impassively.

"Did you know this would happen?" I asked, hopeful. "Are you going to leave? Are you going to go into hiding?"

He looked confused, his eyes still filled with apathy. "Leave? I don't need to leave."

"But, Jon… They know who you are now; they'll know you're alive."

"Does it matter? You just have to leave the mob."

I was confused and my blood suddenly felt cold. "What?"

"I've got a degree, I run an asylum, I've got a home and I've lived in Gotham all my life. Falcone was blackmailing me, as far as I'm concerned it's his problem."

"I can't leave the mob. I don't want to! All my life… my parents… I can't!" I replied, unable to be coherent.

"You don't have a choice." He said, his eyes still uncaring. How could he not understand? I dropped the cushion and stood up in a daze.

"If that's how you feel about it…" I said. I couldn't make sense of anything.

"It is." He answered.

I spared him one last look, hoping to see something in his face. Some of the softness that I was so sure would be there. There was nothing. I turned and left, driving home slowly.


	9. Chapter 9

I was so relieved to be home I was close to thankful. The wolves howled as though they sensed my distress. It wouldn't surprise me if they did – they were capable of it. I ran hot bath for myself and collapsed on the bed as the water filled the tub. I found my mobile and called the Chechen but it still went straight onto the answering machine. I knew I should update my notes but I couldn't find the motivation.

Still, I stepped into my garage. The smug photo of Gambol stared down at me and as I turned towards the Scarecrow's section the photograph he took of us holding each other and smiling greeted me and I had to look away before the tears took hold again. As I was turning to leave I saw the red painted message on the wall.

"MY SPACE HERE!!"

I was filled with rage, an emotion that I felt suited me better than sadness. Fuelled by this I grabbed my mobile and called Gambol. He answered and I could hear the malice and obsession in his voice.

"Why did you send someone to break into my house?" I demanded furiously.

He clearly wasn't expecting me to figure out it was him. "What are you talking about?"

"You got someone to sneak in and unlock my garage door and leave a message on my wall. 'My space here'. Ring any bells?"

"Red, I've got better things to do then send someone to break into your house. I doubt my boys would be so pathetic as to follow those orders and the mob disallows it."

"You're lying."

"Wait. Why didn't you tell me someone broke into your house?" He asked, suddenly possessive. "If you've got a stalker, I can give him a visit."

As sickening as I found these words of two things I was absolutely sure. Firstly, Gambol wasn't ordering to kill me on Maroni's orders. In fact, Maroni was probably pleased because he was now the official head of the crime family. Gambol was doing it because he had figured me out and he wanted to control me. My knowledge of this did nothing to distil the fact that I still had no choice.

Secondly, I knew it wasn't Gambol who had pained the message. I was so positive that there was no one else it could be. No one that knew me would do that – for a start off the people that were important enough already had a space on my wall and no one else would break in just to write that.

I hung up without saying goodbye and swept back into the garage to look at the wall. My fingers traced over the paint with longing. I wished whoever it was would help me now. Still, knowing it wasn't Gambol felt comforting. It meant someone was watching me. I know that doesn't seem very comforting but just maybe someone knew what I was going through. Maybe they understood or even cared. Maybe 'he' – according to Jon – was a stalker. It wouldn't be so bad.

Before, I hadn't needed anyone. I hadn't even wanted anyone. But it was a cruel thing when you let your guard down and let someone in – only to find out that they didn't care at all.

I tried to tell myself it was just the shock and Jon would come around but as weak as he made me I wasn't stupid. I could analyse body language as well as he could and I knew that this was the divide. Maybe it always would have been, maybe it was always between him and the mob. His reaction only proved that the mob was the right decision.

Remembering that the water was still running in my bath I ran to it and stopped it as it was close to the top. It was bubble-less. Just clear water. I felt like I needed to be purified. Cleansed.

As I stepped into the bath it scorched my skin but the pain was welcome. It took my mind off everything and I was so used to pain that it didn't even hurt – it just felt exciting. The water splashed over the side as I sat down. My feet had already turned an angry red from the heat.

I thought about the mysterious stranger. He knew me well enough to know I was keeping notes and where I lived. He could only be interested in me from knowing what part I played in the mob. He obviously thought himself important; as important as Batman Jon had said.

Whoever he was, I wished he was here. Someone new, that knew a lot about me. Someone that might help. Someone that might be on my side.

I lathered my hair with shampoo and ducked underwater to wash it out. When I came back up I was surrounded in black hair dye. It looked like poison. As though the evil inside me was leaking out and surrounding me. As though I was never allowed to be clean.

I finished washing my hair in the water the lay back and closed my eyes, trying not to think. I lost track of the amount of time that had passed.

_Three paths lay before me. My mother's voice echoed around the vast landscape. "It's time to decide where your loyalties lay, Akako."_

"_Scarlett!" Called Jon. The path leading towards him was golden and heavenly. He was wearing an expensive suit and surrounded by three, happy children. "Daddy said you can have a job in law mommy. You don't have to fight anymore."_

_The children smiled excitedly and I recoiled mentally. Children? Law? I didn't want any of that. I knew my future and it was to fight to the death and hopefully hold it off as long as possible. The children cried and wailed. "Mommy, please don't leave us!"_

_That was the path to my far left. The one to my far right was a black path. At the end stood three people: Gambol, Maroni and the Chechen._

"_Red." The Chechen began. "You know where you belong. You belong with us."_

_The path directly ahead was bright red, like the red of my outfit and the red of the paint on my garage walls. There was someone at the end of the path hidden in shadows._

_The paths, people and landscapes dissolved before I could make a choice._

"_TOO SLOW!" A voice bellowed. Something hard collided with my face. "How do you expect to dodge any attacks when you are so slow?"_

_It was my thirteenth birthday again. The torture never stopped. Instead of beating me to unconsciousness as usual, my dad walked away towards my mum who wore disappointment all over her face._

"_She will never make it! We should never have had a child. We gave up everything – EVERYTHING for her and she's useless! If she doesn't get into the mob then we will have wasted our whole lives, for nothing!"_

"_Dad… I'll try again."_

"_No you won't! You won't get second chances with your attackers. You're as good as dead!"_

_Hours passed until bedtime when mom snuck into my bedroom. "Sometimes bad things will happen but you have to get up and keep fighting."_

_A knife stabbed deep into Jon's heart. My hand let go of the dagger and left it there. Another hand rested on my shoulder._

"_Nice job, Red. I always knew you wanted me." I turned around and Gambol was grinning. He started molesting me and as I pulled the dagger out from Jon to use it on him Maroni and the Chechen stood in front of me._

"_Just because you're a head girl now, it doesn't mean you can attack Gambol. I can still kick you out."_

"_But I don't want him to touch me!" I replied but no one was listening. Gambol was staring hungrily._

_I ran down the red path as children cried and the Chechen called me back. The mystery person at the end was holding out a hand and just as I got within touching difference he was shot down. Dead. I turned around and Gambol was so close to my face I couldn't see anything else although now he represented more of a monster than a man._

_His eyes glowed bright red, his pointed teeth were bared and he was utterly insane and dangerous and foaming at the mouth._

I let out a screech and flailed my arms. Icy water splashed over the edge of the bath and covered the tiled floor in a huge puddle. I panted fearfully, looking around me. I strained to listen for any noises but there was only silence ringing in my ears. I stepped out of the freezing cold bath and wrapped myself in a towel.

Desperately, I tried to call the Chechen again but I had no luck. Instead, a made myself a sweet and milky hot chocolate for comfort. Wearing my slippers and a dressing gown I stepped outside to breathe in the fresh, crisp air. I heard footsteps padding towards me but I knew it was only the wolves. The Alpha whimpered as he approached me and rested his head on my feet. I leant against the wall and sighed sadly.

What could I do? I refused to leave the mob and Jon refused to leave Gotham. I couldn't kill him either. I drunk the sweet hot chocolate slowly, trying to calm myself down. I finally went back inside when I was shaking too violently from the cold to hold the cup anymore.

I called Jon, disregarding the time.

"Mm?" A sluggish voice answered.

"Jon, I need to talk to you." I replied, my voice breaking.

"It's two in the morning."

"Please? We need to decide what we're going to do."

"Can't it wait? I've had a hard day."

"So have I!"

There was a sigh at the end of the phone. "Scarlett, you know I love you."

"Do you?"

"Yes. But you don't want to leave the mob for me, so is it so hard to believe I don't want to leave Gotham?"

"Your life is at stake."

"It's safe in your hands, I'm sure."

"But that isn't fair!" I replied, my voice rising.

"Come around if you want."

"What, now?"

"Mm."

I hesitated. "Okay."

He hung up.

When I finally arrived and knocked on the door he answered wearing only his boxers. He was obviously exhausted, he looked still half asleep. Regardless, he wrapped a warm arm around me and led me upstairs.

"It's going to be okay." He told me as he climbed back into bed. I realised I was meant to follow his lead so I got undressed and slipped into bed next to him. Then he turned off the light and fell back to sleep. I didn't sleep that night. It wasn't until light streamed in from the windows that I started to drop off from exhaustion.

I woke up at three o'clock in the afternoon. A note on the pillow next to me read "I've gone to work. Wait here for me."

I realised that it was the buzzing of my phone that had woken me up. I answered it tiredly.

"Yeah?" I asked, without knowing who had called.

"How has it gone?" Gambol's smooth, deep voice asked.

I sat up in bed. "I haven't had a chance yet."

"I thought that might've been the case. I just wanted you to know that if he isn't dead by Monday, you're out of the mob."

Then the phone went blank and a loud beep told me he had hung up. Jon had to leave. He had to.

To keep myself busy until he came back I tidied the house and made myself something to eat. The contact lenses had dissolved and my hair was back to its natural dark brown. I looked the same as usual, despite my disguise from yesterday.

Although it dawned on me that today was Friday and Jon had to be gone on Sunday night at the latest I pushed this to the back of my mind. It wouldn't be a problem.

I lit a fire and watched the flames dance. I thought of Charlotte and all her weird boyfriends. A small part of me envied her. She had gone out with so many interesting people and all she had to worry about was if they'd be carted off to Arkham. She didn't have to worry about killing them – she could just have fun and do things on her own terms.

I thought of nuns, trapped within their own religions. Sworn to celibacy. What would happen if they fell in love and wanted to have a child? I guessed that it was too bad because their God would come first.

With me, the mob came first. It wasn't just about my training anymore – I loved it. I loved the Chechen in a fatherly way and I loved being given jobs to do and trying to avoid Batman and being part of something that allowed me to do this. Putting the mob first meant that I couldn't get close to anyone. It was okay for Maroni; he's free. But Gambol would never let me be free. I had a feeling that even if I didn't have to follow his orders anymore he would have found a way to get Jon out of the picture.

That meant that I could never have anyone again, once Jon left. It was the price I would have to pay for a life of murder. Of course, deep down I knew I didn't deserve anyone and logic was telling me that I should treat myself no different to the other wives of my victims. I don't give them a second thought when I killed there loved ones so why should I give myself a second thought whilst killing Jon?

But the thought of killing him was unbearable and I quickly silenced that voice. I was still sitting by the fire when he returned home from work – he wasn't long. He came and sat next to me, placing a kiss on my cheek.

"They want me to do it by Monday." I told him, swiftly returning the kiss to the cheek.

"Have you not told them yet?"

"Told them what?"

"That you're leaving." He replied calmly. There was a chilling pause.

"I'm not leaving."

He looked at me and his blue eyes pierced me, in the panic I had forgotten how gorgeous he looked and I had to turn away, blushing.

"So you're going to kill me?" He asked, pulling my face back towards him and looking deep into my eyes as though he could see my vicious soul.

"I don't want to." I replied. It was the only truthful answer I could give to that question because I didn't know what I was going to do. He seemed to realise this so I quickly added, "Even if I left the mob, they'd come after you to kill you anyway. You'd still have to leave."

"We could fight together." He replied. "And they don't know where I live."

"It'll only take them a second to find out now they know who you are. Please, Jon. We can still see each other! You can't stay here anymore."

"I am not leaving. This is my home and I'm staying. Why don't you go back where you came from?"

His words hurt me more than I think he had meant them to. I stood up without looking at him and walked towards the door. He made no move to stop me leaving so I did leave. Instead of going home, I went to the bar. It was early but due to the recent events and loss of Falcone the usual people were inside. Maroni beckoned me over.

"I haven't seen you since Falcone got sent away."

"I've just been busy, that's all."

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully but he didn't ask questions. "You want a drink?"

"A strong one." I replied, thankfully. The waiter was much more relaxed with Falcone gone and didn't even trip up on the way to the table.

"What can I interest you in?" He asked, more confidently but still slightly timid.

"A bottle of whisky." I replied and Maroni looked thoughtful again.

"A… bottle?" The waiter asked, thinking he had heard me wrong.

"You know. The thing the liquid is kept in. A bottle." I replied. He knew better than to retort so instead he went off to get a bottle.

He placed the bottle on the table and started to walk away.

"Excuse me." I said, bringing him back. "I'm going to need a glass."

"Oh, yes!" He squeaked, scurrying away for a glass. His confidence hadn't improved that much.

A poured some of the liquid into a glass and placed some money on the table. He rushed to put it in the till.

I left as soon as I had finished that glass, which was a few seconds after the ting of the till sounded. Gambol was giving me a hard stare which I ignored as I raced back through the twilight to my forest. I parked my bike but didn't immediately go into the house.

I climbed a tree with a branch that looked wide enough for me to rest on and sat down. From there I could see quite a bit of Gotham, I was fairly high up. I unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a huge swig. It scorched my throat as it slipped down but I relished the sensation. Anything to take me away from my thoughts.

I carried on drinking and soon half of the bottle had gone. I swung from the branch with one arm and dropped down. Normally, I would have attempted some sort of flip for the feeling of my body twisting in midair but I was quite drunk and didn't trust myself in this state.

I threw the half-empty bottle of whisky onto the floor and tried to walk back to my house but I stumbled on an invisible object and hit my head hard against a tree. I groaned as I lifted my hand clumsily to my head. As I pulled it away I thought I saw red on my hand but I couldn't be sure because it was now pitch black under the canopy of the leaves and everything was blurry.

I didn't trust myself to stand so I crawled to my door and tried to put the key in the lock. Even this proved too much effort and I collapsed on the door step, looking at the world sideways.

Because I couldn't think of anything else to do and I wanted to hear a voice – any voice – I called Jon. He answered.

"Why are you being such a prick?" I asked. As I said it I heard strange, high-pitched laughter. "And don't fucking laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing! Are you drunk?"

"Who cares if I'm fucking drunk? Shall I tell you who? Not you."

"What?"

"Gambol does though. He cares if I'm drunk. He wants to get me into bed. And the Chechen fucking cares because he's my dad."

"He isn't your dad, Scarlett."

"He fucking is and don't call me that!"

"You're being ridiculous." He replied, impatiently.

"NO, YOU'RE FUCKING RIDICULOUS! I doesn't matter if I leave the mob they'll kill you anyway. You're just an idiot."

"That's enough. I'm not going to leave just because an obsessive admirer wants you to himself."

I was silent then. He was boring me.

"Hello?" He asked.

"What?"

"Why aren't you speaking?" He asked. I didn't answer. "How much have you had to drink?"

"I've had enough to drink to forget about what you're making me go through."

"Where are you?"

"I'm not telling you where I am." I replied stubbornly.

"Why not?" He asked, his voice now more patient and it almost sounded worried – I couldn't be sure though, I was too drunk to make sense of anything.

"I think my head's bleeding." I giggled, ignoring his question. My finger slipped to a button on the phone and I accidentally put it on loudspeaker.

"Where are you?" His voice sounded clearly through the forest.

"It's funny. It's bleeding." I laughed hard. "I hit it on a tree."

"Are you in the forest?" He asked. I instantly became silent, realising my mistake. I answered after a pause.

"No."

"I'm coming to get you."

I let out an angry sigh. "No, don't. I don't want to see you."

"Fair enough." He replied and hung up.

I stared at the blank phone screen for a while and then muttered to myself. "My space here…"

My eyes felt heavy and I couldn't stop them from closing. Blood trickled down my face. Seconds later I was asleep.

*

Someone lifted me from the ground and my head lolled. I had no strength – not even to open my eyes.

_Wake up_

I tried but I couldn't make sense of anything that was going on and I was too weak and tired to fight.

*

My eyes stung as they fluttered open. My tongue felt swollen and I was in desperate need of water. I heard a glass be placed on a surface nearby as though someone had heard my thoughts.

I realised I was in my bed. For some reason my head was throbbing. I lifted my hand to it and it stung as I touched it. It was surrounded by a crust that was matted in my hair and as I followed it down I realised I had dried blood all down my face and neck.

I groaned so that the person in my house would know I was awake. Whoever it was walked into the bathroom and when they came back, pressed something hot and damp against my face. I realised it was a wet flannel.

My head hurt too much to move it so I slurred the question with my thick tongue. "Who are you?"

"It's me." Jon replied. "I know you said you didn't want to see me but I was worried."

"I said what?" I asked. I couldn't remember saying anything to him.

"It doesn't matter. You lost a lot of blood."

I tried to remember hitting my head but I couldn't. Instead I groaned as my hand tried to find the glass he placed next to me.

"Here." He said, handing me the water. I drunk it all in one go desperately.

"I know you might not believe me but I love you." He said, everything came flooding back to me then and the reason I had tried to drink myself into a coma. "I just don't like you being in the mob. It's too dangerous and Gambol has too much control of you. Can't you just leave?"

"They would come after you anyway and I like it." I told him, repeating the same old arguments.

"We could leave together."

"I like it here. I like the mob and Batman."

There was a pause as he continued to clean my face. I closed my eyes because the light was making them sting. I could only imagine how awful I must look with red eyes and blood covering me.

"I went into your garage." He admitted.

"Why?"

"I wanted to see the message. You wrote some nice things about me."

Something inside me clicked as I looked into his eyes and saw how emotionless they were. He was manipulating me and I felt sick that I had allowed this to go on for so long. I realised I didn't want to be near him anymore. He was making it purposely hard for me. I stumbled up and grabbed my purse containing money, my phone, my keys and my switchblade.

I swayed as I walked – I felt so lightheaded. I wondered how much blood I had lost. My eyes stung again but this time with tears. As I opened the door I realised it was cold and raining. I wandered outside with bare feet that slipped on the muddy damp ground. The rain that poured over me turned pink as it washed the blood away.

"Where are you going?" He called after me. I checked my phone because it was pitch black outside. It was only six o'clock in the evening but because it was winter the sky was already dark. As I wandered aimlessly I felt dizzier and dizzier and soon started hyperventilating from panic. What was I going to do about him?

"Wait." Jon said in my ear, grabbing my arm and making me jump.

"Get off me!" I cried, my tears mingling with the rain. My breathing got even heavier and my hand shook as I took my switchblade from my purse. We were at the edge of the forest now and there was nowhere else for me to go.

"You aren't going to kill me." He stated, unafraid.

"You aren't giving me another choice!" I shrieked and gasped for air. I could tell I was breaking down. Everything seemed a hundred times worse.

"You won't. You can't." He replied as my hand trembled and my brain felt like it was too big for my head. Like it was going to explode. "You're too weak."

I didn't stop to wonder if he meant physically or emotionally. At that moment he could have been my father pinning me to the floor and beating me and taunting.

"_You are weak!"_

"I'M NOT WEAK!" I screamed slashing the top of his arm with my blade. It was a worryingly deep cut.

Slowly he looked down at it as though he couldn't believe I had done it. I threw my blade far away and sobbed uncontrollably grasping my head as though it was going to blow to pieces.

"I can't do it!"

He turned back to look at me and his face made me shiver. The excitement was in his eyes. The familiar gleam he got when he thought of torturing his patients. He had a small smile on his face. I had never seen him look so crazy.

"Red!" A voice yelled. I was gasping so hard for air I thought I would fall apart. My body shook uncontrollably. The Chechen was running up the hill towards me. I clutched onto him as though I would die if I let go.

"I can't do it!" I told him. "I can't, please, I can't, I…"

He pulled me close and stroked my hair. My fingers slipped from his shirt and all I could see was blackness. I slumped unconsciously to the ground, but not before hearing the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.


	10. Chapter 10

I opened my eyes. I didn't recognise the room. I was lying on a sofa, covered in a duvet with a pillow behind my head. I felt numb although it was a few heavenly seconds until I remembered everything.

There was a voice humming from a different room – the only voice I wanted to hear. The Chechen came out with a hot cup of tea in his hands and placed it before me.

"Where's Jon?" I asked, my voice dull.

He turned away guiltily. "He's gone."

I nursed the burning cup on my hands as the words sunk in. It was over and Jon had died. The burning of the cup couldn't compare to the burning inside me of pure hatred directed at Gambol.

"Thank you so much." I replied solemnly.

He sat on a chair opposite and sipped from his own cup. "What for?"

"I couldn't do it but I didn't want to lose everything. You helped." I sat up and felt comforted by his presence. "How did you know? I couldn't get in touch."

"I got back early. Gambol told me what he said to you. I tried to find you." He said. I drunk the tea in silence and it scolded my lips and tongue. "Don't do anything stupid."

"What do you mean?" I asked, although the bitter tone in my voice told him that I knew the answer.

"You can't kill him."

I sighed, unsure as to why those words upset me so much. "I know. I can dream though, can't I?"

He laughed. I faked a laugh too. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated what he had done for me. For some reason I wasn't at all upset with him but thankful instead.

"I heard you were promoted!" He smiled proudly. I nodded, a smile planted on my own face. "I also heard you had a break-in."

"What?" I asked before remembering the message. "Oh, yeah. I have no idea who it was. I suppose it doesn't matter. It could just be some teenager that was wandering around and found my cottage and decided to break in."

"With paint?"

"Who knows?" I replied, uninterested anymore.

"Are you going to hire anyone?" He asked. It was strange thinking I didn't work for him anymore.

"I doubt it. I prefer to work myself. If you have any jobs though, I'd love to go with you. I had fun."

He grinned and nodded. "Maroni is having a meeting. He wants you to be there."

"When?"

"In twenty minutes."

I looked at myself. My feet were covered in mud, my hair was matted with blood and my face was stained. "Can I have a shower?"

He nodded and showed me the way. As soon as I was inside with the door locked I sat down under the shower head. The water poured over my hair and muddy feet and cleansed me although I didn't feel clean. I felt empty.

Silent tears fell down my cheeks as I realised I would never see him again. I couldn't even remember the last time he kissed me. There was one thing I was sure I would never forget though. The last look I saw on his face. His perplexing eyes and soft voice and smile. The look of insanity etched onto his features. The blood pouring down his arm.

I closed my eyes tight in an attempt to forget the images. I washed myself properly after this, deciding it was better for me to be in someone else's company at the moment. I dried myself and put my blood-and-mud stained clothes back on. I had no shoes but I didn't care. I didn't have enough energy left inside me to care.

A glimpse of my reflection in the mirror showed me how exhausted I looked. I felt like someone close to death and the dark circles around my eyes and my grey-tinged skin did nothing to help matters. I practised smiling in the mirror. It looked realistic but felt so out of place.

I stepped out of the bathroom and he led me towards his car. We arrived at the restaurant kitchens in no time. People stared as I walked through bare-footed but I ignored them. The strangers didn't affect me, it was the people I knew that affected me and as I walked in with the Chechen by my side their eyes widened as they saw me. Only Maroni had the decency not to stare but to smile instead and greet us.

The Chechen put an encouraging arm around me as we were probed for weapons and he led me to a seat.

"So, I wanted to congratulate Red on her promotion." Maroni began. People were still staring at me as though I was a museum exhibition. I wanted to leave. I wanted to cry. I didn't – I held everything inside and forced a smile. "That means you can do what you want and the only orders you have to follow are mine."

Then he addressed everyone. "With Falcone gone at Batman's hands people are starting to feel safer. They're starting to fight back. We need to be careful and stay quieter than before. If you want to teach the people that stand up to you a lesson than be my guest but don't attract too much attention. From now on, we only meet up during the day. Batman's after all of us now so keep your whereabouts secret. I've hired a money launderer to keep the money safe – even though we've placed people in the banks we can't be too careful. The good news is I've got people well placed in the police force so we'll know about anything going on.

"Are there any questions?" He asked.

The person that declared I was in league with Batman spoke up. "Is it true you killed your boyfriend? You actually _killed_ him?"

"What is it to you who she kills?" The Chechen asked. "You should be polite to your superiors."

He muttered something that sounded like "heartless". If it was possible I think I had gone even paler.

"You got a problem with Red?" Maroni asked.

The guy fidgeted in his seat, evidently wanting to say something. "She's a woman. She shouldn't be in the mob let alone being in a high position. You can't trust her – look what happened to her boyfriend!"

"Red was under orders." The Chechen told him, becoming protective.

"So she says…"

"If you don't shut up," I said, making my voice even and sincere. "I will break your nose – and then your neck."

He hesitated. "I don't take orders from you."

"Yes. You do. Come here."

"No." He replied although I could here his resolve disappearing.

"Coward."

"I don't want to end up the same way as your boyfriend."

I snapped. Standing up suddenly, I leapt across the table and we both clattered to the floor. I pinned him down. Before he even had chance to open his eyes I fulfilled the first part of my promise and my fist smashed down hard onto his nose – breaking it.

He yelled in pain. "Apologize."

"Gambol." He groaned, expecting Gambol to help him. His hand clutched his broken nose as blood poured from it.

"If you really want me to break your neck I will."

"I'm sorry." He said sarcastically but it was enough for me. When I walked back over to the Chechen he stretched his arm out for a hug. I moved my chair closer to him and he let his arm drop around my shoulders. Maroni didn't punish me for my outburst – quite the opposite, he was smirking.

"I'm going to go now, if that's okay." I asked Maroni. He nodded and I left the room, walking back through the restaurant. I didn't have my bike with me so I waited for the Chechen to come out – I wanted some fresh air anyway. However, a few minutes later Gambol stood opposite me.

"You know you did it for me." He said. I scowled at him, unable to believe someone could be so self-centred.

"I did it for the mob."

"Liar. You did it because I ordered you to." I faced him, my hatred radiating from me in waves.

"I did it because I put the mob before everything. You have no idea how much I want to kill you. There is no part of me at all that likes you."

"That doesn't matter. You belong to me."

"I BELONG TO NO ONE!" I shrieked but as I grasped for my knife I remembered throwing it away in the forest.

"Red?" The Chechen called. Once he saw Gambol in front of me his face was replaced with anger but he kept it under control. "Get in the car."

I did as he said gladly, anything to get away from Gambol. The Chechen murmured words that I couldn't hear to Gambol before following me in. He drove me home but held onto my arm before I got out. "If you want to stay at mine you can."

The invitation was tempting but I refused. I needed to be alone. I couldn't find my switchblade in the forest but I was glad – I didn't want to remember where it had happened or see the knife that I had cut him with. I went straight home and into my garage, taking a red permanent marker with me. Across the notes of the Scarecrow and the picture of us together I wrote one, large word.

Gambol.

I spent the rest of the night sat opposite the wall of the Scarecrow, crying. I was desperate for revenge but I knew I couldn't get it. They would know it was me. Finally, when I was unable to stand it any longer I went out wearing my Red Riding Hood outfit – searching the streets for a victim to take my anger and hurt out on.

I found one. It was a man that was only a few years older than me. He was huddled in a corner, taking drugs. When he saw me he smiled a disgusting smile and winked at me. Smiling, I beckoned him over.

"Chase me!" I told him, leading him somewhere more secluded. He ran after me, no doubt thinking he was hallucinating. When we were on our own I pressed a kitchen knife against his neck. I realised that the reason nothing made sense was because the world didn't make sense. Perhaps things didn't need to make sense.

"Scream for help. Shout it loud." I told him, hoping Batman would be somewhere close. He screamed for almost five minutes and no one came. I thought I heard soft laughter but decided I was imagining it – probably Jon's last laugh.

"Too bad." I told him. "I don't think Batman will save you today."

He panted, tears in his eyes.

"Do you know what I've realised?" I asked. He shook his head. "You think you have rights, but they can be taken away from you when people want to turn a blind eye. Everything is corrupt. Nothing is going to save you because that's the way the world works. Aren't you going to fight back?"

"You've got a knife." He whimpered. I tossed it aside.

"How about now? I'm only a little girl." I teased. He aimed a pitiful punch in my direction but I dodged it, grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back. My other hand grabbed his hair. "Sweet dreams."

I yanked his head backwards as far as it would go and then further until I heard the satisfying crack of his neck and his body went limp. I let him slump to the floor and went back to pick up my knife. A minute later, Batman dropped down.

"Where is he?" He growled.

"Oh." I giggled, disturbingly. "I think we've lost him."

He spotted the dark lump on the floor and bent over it, checking for a pulse.

"Can you save him, Batman? I think it might be too late."

He turned back towards me, racing at me with skill. I dodged at the last second and slashed his arm – through his armour. Then I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and my sides were in stitches. I didn't stop – I couldn't. When I stopped I would remember Jon.

But I didn't have to.

On the way back I passed an off-licence store and bought a bottle of vodka. I opened it as I walked slowly back. The disgusting taste of nail-varnish remover stung me but I drunk anyway. I didn't stop until I couldn't walk in a straight line. That night I slept in the garage as Jon's face looked down at me through red letters and it was the first of many nights that I cried myself to sleep.

For weeks after that life was difficult. The time I didn't spend in the garage I spent collapsed in the forest from alcohol. I was becoming more withdrawn at the meetings – only speaking to Maroni or the Chechen. Gambol kept trying to advance on me and I got angrier every time. I think some sick part of him liked that because he kept bringing up the control he had over me and knew I couldn't retaliate with anything other than words.

I kept trying to tell myself that I felt better without Jon here and I didn't miss him at all. That I was glad he was dead. I think eventually, I started believing it.

As months passed I got better and more dedicated at my job. I stopped drinking and spent the time training by myself instead. Maroni had me doing more and more jobs for him and when I was bored I'd go out and sort out the people that were standing up to the mob.

A few months later a new district attorney had been elected. He seemed to be Mister Perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes and dimples. The least interesting person I had ever seen besides for Gambol. His name was (I-Believe-In) Harvey Dent. He was referred to as Gotham's White Knight and he gradually closed in on the lower level mobsters, drug dealers and money launderers. People's spirits were raised and people from the mob no longer went out after dark.

Except for me. Night was my favourite time because I had Batman to play with although this was becoming less and less frequent as summer drew closer and the nights were lighter for longer. I needed to sleep at some point because as the mob could only operate during daylight we had meetings almost every day. My hatred for Gambol grew stronger with every meeting, my glares more venomous and my desire to kill him becoming increasingly impatient. The Chechen kept me from doing anything I would regret at least.

With Harvey Dent now having a certain amount of control over the press, I had been featured in the newspaper a few times with warnings against me. I didn't care – not many people even knew the forest existed. Besides, they had no photographs of me, only the description of my outfit so I was still free to go outside during the day. I sometimes had the feeling I was being watched but even after having the wolves search for someone and searching from the treetops myself I couldn't see anyone. My mysterious stranger had done nothing since the graffiti so I could only conclude that it was a one-time thing from someone of little importance. I may have already killed him without realising.

Almost six months had passed quickly. I opened my eyes to sunlight and warmth. I got up to go to the bathroom but stopped dead in my tracks. The garage door had been left ajar. My heart pounded fiercely. Nowadays, I kept the garage firmly locked – I hadn't been in it for weeks and that meant someone had been in my house while I was asleep.

I walked into the garage; my insides squirmed as I saw the photograph of me and Jon for the first time in ages. I checked the whole of the garage knowing I wouldn't find anything I turned towards the final wall. Underneath the painted message was a playing card. I was filled with excitement as I walked closer to it. It contained a picture of the joker and the words "What doesn't kill you…"

I turned the card over but that was all that was there. I didn't understand what it meant. Had this person almost died recently? Or was he referring to… No. Nobody besides the mob knew about Jon.

I groaned. Keeping the joker card in my hand I locked the door and grabbed my phone.

"Couldn't wait until the next meeting?" Gambol asked, smugly. My nose wrinkled in disgust.

"What's with the playing card?"

"What card?"

"The one in my garage!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Why would I sneak into your house to leave you a playing card?"

"Well, someone did it when I was asleep. Only you and the Chechen know where I live. Don't lie to me Gambol."

"I'm not lying!" He declared, and although I hated to admit it his voice rang with truth. "It's not my style."

I hung up without another word. Was it a death threat? I put the card on my bedside table and got dressed after a shower.

I put on a short, loose jumper-dress that suited me and left my hair scrunched. I applied my usual small amount of make-up and grabbed my purse – stuffing it with money.

My new jobs were incredibly well paid but putting millions of dollars in the bank at a time was a bit conspicuous so I had decided – upon the knowledge that someone was breaking into my house – to take it to the bank small amounts at a time.

Along with my outfit, my motorbike had also been described in the papers so I walked unless I couldn't avoid it. I slipped on a pair of summery heels and left for the bank. The streets were bright with sunlight and Gotham looked far more cheery than usual. Of course, people were putting this down to Harvey Dent rather than the weather.

I stepped into the bank and headed over to a blonde woman behind the counter to hand her my money. She took it and locked it safely in the till before smiling at me broadly. "Have a nice day."

As I turned to leave the sound of gunshots filled the room. I instantly darted around to see what was happening. Three men with clown-masks were running into the bank, one was hauling the security guard with him – apparently called Chuckles.

"Hands up, heads down!" Yelled another man called Grumpy. The other was referred to as Bozo and seemed quiet. Chuckles aimed a gun at everyone as they screamed and Bozo opened a bag filled with bombs. Hopefully the weapon training my dad took me through would be helpful.

"I said hands up, heads down!" Grumpy shouted again, pulling a man off the counter and moving to drag the blonde woman off too. I made my decision in a split second and I decided to play along – it looked like a lot of fun. I crouched onto the floor, my hands raised half-heartedly in the air and I hid my smile.

"Stay down. I said stay down there!" Grumpy yelled again as Bozo handed everyone bombs and took out the pin. "Obviously we don't want you doing anything with your hands other than holding on for dear life."

As Bozo approached me I managed to grab the bomb in a way that only required one hand. With my other I grabbed the guy's wrist and looked into his eyes – trying to see if I recognised him. His eyes seemed to widen slightly and were surrounded by black coal. For one fleeting moment I thought it was Batman trying to have some fun.

Bozo's hand moved towards the pocket of his frayed and torn, cheap suit and I let go instantly, wanting to remain innocent and seeming frightened. He tilted his head to one side for a moment in curiosity and with the mask it looked rather comical. I laughed before I could compose myself but he didn't seem interested – he continued distributing the bombs.

I took this time to examine the bomb in my hand – some gave you a few seconds before they exploded and if it was that type I would be able to throw it as a distraction before escaping, however some exploded instantly. I recognised the markings at the bottom and realised it wasn't an explosive bomb – it was a gas bomb.

This did nothing to improve the situation. I knew that gas bombs could be even worse than explosives. When attacked by gas in war people often begged anyone nearby to shoot them – if they were still able to talk. I had no way of telling what sort of gas was inside but if I held my breath I'd hopefully be okay. If not… well with my line of work you were only in it until you died and I didn't fear death.

"On the ground. Stay on the ground! Nobody make a move! Nobody! Stay down!" Chuckles yelled, pointing his gun. I saw the danger before any of his friends. The bank manager that I knew worked for us had remained calm during this and had killed Chuckles with a sawed-off shotgun. Now I realised why he was hired by us.

"Do you have any idea who you're stealing from?" The bank manager yelled. "You and your friends are dead!"

Bozo ducked behind the counters and ran behind one further away as the manager missed his shots. While their attention was occupied on something else, I slipped off my heels so I could move silently and hopped over the counter behind me, crouching beneath one of the cupboard areas without doors. I wasn't visible to anyone that looked down and any normal person would have run from the scene so I doubted they would find me.

"He's out, right?" I heard Grumpy ask. The next thing I heard was another gunshot and a groan of pain. The shotgun clicked – this time he was out of ammo.

The sound of a machine gun echoed through the bank and I heard the bank manager fall to the ground.

"Where did you learn to count?" Grumpy asked angrily. "Hey, that girl's gone."

A hand slid down the counter as he checked behind it but I was well hidden. "She must've run away. We'd better be quick, I'll check on the other guy."

Footsteps approached the counter and the next thing I heard was a man hop over to the side I was on. I couldn't understand. Why wouldn't he trust his co-worker? Why would he think I was down here when clearly anyone in my situation would have run away!

As his footsteps got closer and my heart beat excitedly I knew there was only one thing to do. Taking a big breath of clean air I let go of the bomb and threw it in his direction. Thankfully, it _was_ just a gas bomb. I pushed off from the counter and ran out of the door. Luckily, he didn't follow so I crouched down to see what was happening.

Grumpy returned dragging several large, full bags and I realised that they must've been stealing from us – from the mob. "That's a lot of money. If this Joker guy was so smart he'd have had us bring a bigger car."

My jaw dropped. The Joker? I scanned my memory and remembered the bet I had placed when I was on a job with… Well, I remembered who the Joker was and I realised that it was likely he had left the card – seeing as it _was_ a Joker card. I was in danger of going off into a daydream when Grumpy took the safety off his gun and aimed it at Bozo.

I had to admit, getting them to kill off each other was incredibly smart and satisfyingly sadistic. "I'm betting the Joker told you to kill me as son as we'd loaded the cash."

Bozo moved to one side and checked his watch. "No, no, no, no, no. I kill the bus driver." His voice was strangely unique whereas Grumpy's voice was gruff and raw.

"Bus driver?" Grumpy asked confidently, his gun still pointed at Bozo. Bozo moved to the side and Grumpy mimicked him to keep the same distance. "What bus driver?"

As soon as the words had escaped his lips a bus crashed through the wall and ran him over. I snuck back inside the bank to get a better view of what was happening. Bozo was staring at the man on the floor as though he knew it would happen.

"School's out, time to go." Said another man in a clown mask. He was short and fairly bulky and as Bozo passed the bags to him he threw them in the bus. "That guy's not getting up is he?"

Bozo continued to pass bags to the other guy who was eager to take them. It dawned on me that the police would be coming soon and I should escape but I wanted to see what would happen. "That's a lot of money."

When all the bags were in the bus the guy asked, "What happened to the rest of the guys?"

In response, Bozo shot him and the guy fell to the floor, dead. I giggled a bit too loudly before I could stop myself and for a moment I thought Bozo had heard me but he didn't look in my direction. To be sure, I darted silently behind one of the counters close to the bank manager and I had a much better view although he'd probably leave now if he had any sense – the police would be arriving. It occurred to me that being caught at the scene of the crime wouldn't go well but I stayed rooted to the spot. Part of me wondered if I would have got this close if I hadn't known that the Joker was behind it. Perhaps I hoped I'd hear some information about him. With everyone dead but Bozo, that was unlikely to happen now.

"Think you're smart, huh?" The bank manager yelled, bravely. Bozo turned away from the bus just before jumping in and walked towards him, his head tilted with the same interest he had shown me. "But the guy that hired you's. He'll just do the same to you. The criminals in this town used to believe in things. Honour! Respect! Look at you. What do you believe in, huh? What do you believe in?!"

He spoke in his oddly captivating voice, thrusting a differently shaped bomb into the man's mouth. "I believe whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you…" He pulled off his mask and stared directly into my eyes. "Stranger."

I gasped, for a moment caught in the headlights. His hair was dirty and green. He had huge scars from the corner of each mouth. His teeth were yellow and his face was coated in garish paint, like a clown's. He should have been revolting but something about him screamed obvious beauty. Everything just looked so right… so magical.

In the few seconds his face shocked me he had stood up, a wire attached to the bomb in the man's mouth, and walked towards me. Snapping back to reality I stood, bare-footed as I had left my shoes by the other counter, and turned to run.

I had hesitated for too long. He caught my wrist and yanked me back with surprising strength and hauled me over his shoulder in a fireman-lift. He turned and walked back towards the bus so I pushed my knee hard into his stomach – a hard blow that would have made even the most muscled men drop me to the floor. He just made an "oomph" noise from the impact and then laughed, a strange high-pitched laugh. Confused, I aimed another blow, harder this time but he just laughed harder as he hopped into the bus and locked the door.

I had never known anything like this before and I couldn't understand him. He should be in so much pain that he was doubled over but instead he laughed. He smelled so nice…

I shut my mind off to any thoughts that would lead where I knew they would go. I knew only too well what would happen and I had only just managed to get my life back on track from the Scarecrow. Still my mind thought, _so this is the red path from my dream…_

He dropped me on a seat near the front and moved to the steering wheel, driving into a queue of other school buses so that this one was indistinguishable. Sirens whizzed past as police cars turned up at the bank too late.

I had no idea what to say. I settled for admiring his face and trying to figure out what made him so gorgeous when clearly he should have been one of the ugliest people I had ever seen.

"I'm shocked." He said and his voice made me jump. "That you let yourself get caugh**t**." His tongue traced his bright red lips.

"You knew I wouldn't have left when I was behind the counter." I said as a statement rather than a question. He smirked, his scar pulling up at the side.

"I heard Grumpy talk about the Joker. You planned to kill them all, didn't you?" I asked. He still didn't reply, but laughed at a joke inside his head.

"It was…" I began, but didn't know how to finish. Amazing? Entertaining? Inviting? I settled for a wicked laugh at the thought of all those dead bodies.

"Are you not concerned?" He asked, his voice making me jump yet again as he smacked his lips. "That your money is in those bags?"

"Oh…" I said, turning to look at them. "Not really. Spend it on something good, there isn't anything I want that can be bought."

His eyebrows rose, interested. His eyes darted to my face and then back to the road. "What do you wan**t**?"

I thought about this. What did I want? The answer should have been to have Jon back but shamefully it wasn't. I wanted revenge and freedom. I wanted to do what I was doing but without the mob's rules.

"I want… to be able to do what I want." I said, and then realised that sounded confusing. "Without consequences."

I wondered if he was thinking about what I said because his face betrayed nothing. I wondered how long he had watched me for and how much he knew about me. He had been inches away from me in my house as I slept. I continued talking to occupy my mind. "Revenge would be a nice start."

"Why can't you get revenge?" He asked, his tongue flitting over his lips again. Was he doing that on purpose? I had almost forgotten he'd asked me a question.

"The rules."

"The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules." He replied automatically. I grinned in response because I knew how right he was.

"What do you want?" I asked him, the smile still playing on my face.

"Me?" He asked innocently.

I bit my lip, the bus suddenly felt too hot. Something bubbled inside me as though it was going to burst and to stop it I opened my mouth to reply.

"Yes." I breathed. It sounded so wrong. More like a moan than an answer. I blushed heavily for the first time in months. His eyes were off the road now and on me. Examining me.

"I need to open a window." I told him to give me something to do and hide my face. His eyes moved back to the road and I noticed how trained he was at seeming impassive. Whatever was going on in his head remained private.

I leant across the chair to reach for the window, knowing full-well my curves were reflected in his mirror. I didn't know if he looked or not but I scolded myself mentally. I knew that no form of relationship would ever be tolerated within the mob and I shouldn't add to the temptation. I took a big breath and slowly walked back to the place he dropped me and sat down.

"You must've kidnapped me for a reason?"

He rubbed his neck. "You wanted to be caught."

I narrowed my eyes but didn't deny it. Maybe, deep down, I did. I wanted to meet the man that left me a message six months ago and snuck past me as I slept. An embarrassing thought struck me. It was summer and boiling hot and I had slept in only the smallest pyjamas my mum had bought me and without a cover, otherwise the heat was too much to bear.

"I was curious about…" I was tempted to refer to him in the third person, as though he wasn't really there. "You. I thought one of you might've let some information slip so I could find out more."

"You aren't defending yourself."

"I'm not in danger." I replied. He smirked at a hidden thought but continued to stare ahead. Suddenly he stopped the bus at a place I didn't recognise.

He jumped up from the seat and sat opposite me, his arms resting on the back of the chairs either side of him and both our backs to the windows.

"You're having a meeting tomorrow." He told me.

"Am I?" I asked, no one had told me about it. As if on cue, my phone buzzed.

I looked at the called ID and glared. I looked back at the Joker and his eyes were on my face, indifferently but as though he was savouring every emotion in my expression.

I answered, with venom in my voice. "Gambol."

I slipped it onto loud speaker and held a finger to my lips to signal for the Joker to stay quiet. "One of our banks has been stolen from."

"Stolen?" I asked with innocence.

"Me and Maroni went to see the bank manager, in hospital."

My face turned stony. I was going to be blackmailed _again_? So soon after meeting the Joker. It was like a bad joke. Everything seemed good here, until Gambol's voice haunted me like an angry spirit.

"Did you?" I asked, my voice showing anger.

"Where are you?" He asked, his voice thick and deep.

I looked at the Joker but his eyes were on my face and gave me no clues as of what to say. "I'm with someone."

"Who?" He asked, possessively.

"It's none of your business."

"It is my business if you've been kidnapped. It's everyone's business that belongs to the mob. You're one of ours."

"I don't belong to anyone!" I yelled. "And if I did, it wouldn't be you."

"Who are you with, Red?"

"A man."

From those two words there was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone. "Come here. Now."

The Joker licked his lips and sidetracked me. My voice sounded less angry and lighter now. "Pick a colour."

"What?"

"Gold, black or red?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah, I'm being stupid." I replied. "Gold isn't in it anymore. Black or red?"

He sighed impatiently. "Red."

"Okay." I replied and hung up.

"I hate him." I whispered to myself. The Joker seemed to realise it was to myself because he didn't question it. Or perhaps he just knew everything about it already.

"When you go to the meeting tomorrow wear your outfi**t**."

"In the day? In front of them all?"

He just grinned, his eyes alive with something I didn't know. "Precisely."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over until I was sat on his knee. I didn't dare to breathe. I could smell him and his scent intoxicated me, making it hard to think straight. I tried to stand up but he held me there, his hand grasping my wrist so tightly it hurt but the pain excited me, weirdly, even though I wasn't looking forward to a fight. His eyes stared into mine, weighing up what he saw. He seemed to calculate everything whilst giving nothing away.

"Why?" I breathed, looking away from him. This was unbearable. I wanted to run away from him.

"Look at me." He said, roughly grabbing my face and pulling it back towards his.

I hadn't realised that my hand was on his arm, nor that my fingernails were pressing in through his suit, betraying how he was affecting me.

"Why shouldn't they see who you really are?" He said in his unusual voice, with hidden implications. "You want to live without rules."

"Okay." I promised. The corners of his mouth twitched as though a plan was going wrong but he was trying to reassure himself otherwise. There was some sort of complicated thought process going on behind his eyes. I wondered if I was meant to say no.

Then he pushed me away and went back to sit behind the steering wheel, leaving me utterly confused. "Do you want to get out here?"

"I don't know where I am."

"Your house is half a mile down that road."

I recognised the abrupt dismissal and left the bus, wondering what I had done wrong. As soon as I closed the door of the bus he drove away, leaving me on the spot to walk home alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** This follows the story more closely now. Also, some of the words I've used are different to the film but I changed a lot of them on purpose because I preferred them a different way. Enjoy. Oh, and thanks to everyone that reviews!! I really really appreciate it 3  


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I turned the joker card over and over in my hands as I rested on my bed with the windows open wide. It was morning and, as the Joker said, I had a meeting today.

_What doesn't kill you simply makes you stranger._

That was true of me, since Jon's death my killings were becoming more and more manic and elaborate, including difficult free running and gymnastics stunts and teasing Batman more and more.

He couldn't run well in that armour. That was his weakness but also his strength because it wasn't a fair fight when a knife could only pierce it if I used all my strength and a knife could pierce me with ease. We were evenly matched it seemed.

I thought about the Joker's request. I knew under my own circumstances I wouldn't wear my outfit during the day. Firstly, it was stupid. It had been described to everyone in Gotham that read a newspaper, the police would realise I was behind it and it was too dangerous.

Secondly, it made me excited when I was going on a job. As though I lived a second life like Batman must do. It was as though I was a different person during the night than during the day. My notes on Batman remained scarce because I didn't want to risk finding out who he was – it would ruin part of the fun.

But the fact the Joker had ordered me to wear it made me want to, as though it was a secret game just between the two of us. I stared at myself in the mirror, giving myself threats.

_Don't even _think_ of anything with him. Nothing. You promised yourself after Jon that you would never let your feelings for someone rule things again. If they knew you had done nothing to recover the money – that you had told him to keep it – you would be _out_ of the mob! You've been through enough already trying to stay in your position._

But amongst the threats I never told myself to dress normally, only to avoid any feelings. I should have done. The Joker had no power over me, in fact, he was against me. I should have ended this game before it even started.

The part of my mind that was scolding me tended to ignore this part as though I wasn't stood here in a dress with one fishnet glove and one above-the-knee pink and black sock.

I grabbed a long coat and threw it over my dress so that I would only have to take it off at the meeting and I wouldn't bring the police crashing down on us.

I set off towards Maroni's restaurant. Some people looked at me, obviously wondering why I was only wearing one sock but I ignored them. The Chechen met me outside Falcone's bar and led me up to the restaurant.

"Are you wearing your outfit?" He asked.

"Yes." I replied, with a smile

"What for?"

"For the meeting." I replied. I didn't want to lie to him so I tried to choose my words carefully. He didn't ask any more and I realised that the Joker wouldn't know whether or not I was wearing it anyway, seeing as he wouldn't see me in it unless he was watching me now.

We walked through to the kitchens and the Chechen grasped Maroni's hand to shake it before sitting next to him. I sat next to the Chechen at the end of the table and Gambol was on the other side, glaring. I took off my coat.

The Chechen smirked and Maroni wasn't bothered but everyone else turned to look – some wondering what the hell I was doing and some wanting to stare at my body. I didn't even blush because the Joker was firmly in my mind and I felt like I was part of something more than the meeting, just for today.

Gambol seemed to think that this is what his answer of "red" had meant on the phone because even though he was sending a death glare to me across the table for being with another man he had that stupid smug grin as though he controlled me.

Someone brought a TV out and put it on the end of the table furthest from me.

"What the hell is this?" The man next to Maroni yelled.

The television turned on and I recognised Lau, our money launderer. He looked as though he was on an airplane.

"As you're all aware, one of our deposits has been stolen. A relatively small amount: sixty-eight million." He said.

I worked hard to keep the smile firmly off my face. I could feel Gambols hard stare.

"Who's stupid enough to steal from us?" The Chechen asked, but Maroni answered before Lau.

"Two-bit whack job. Wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem, he's a nobody. The problem is our money being tried by the cops." He replied, turning back towards the TV.

"Thanks to mister Maroni's well placed sources we know that police have indeed identified our banks using marked bills and are planning to seize your funds today. And since the enthusiastic new DA has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."

"So what are you proposing?" Maroni asked.

"Moving all the money to one secure location. Not a bank."

"Where then?" Gambol asked angrily.

"Nobody can know but me. If the police gained leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake."

"What stops them getting to you?" The Chechen asked.

"I go to Hong Kong. Far from Dent's jurisdiction and the Chinese will not extradite one of their own."

"How soon can you move the money?" Maroni asked.

"I already have. For obvious reasons, I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured; your money is safe."

I opened my mouth to point out to everyone that he had all our money and how were we meant to access it when only he knew where it was? But I was interrupted.

From the entrance to the kitchens came a laughter that made my heart race and my head spin towards the source of the noise.

The Joker walked forward, pretending to laugh and said. "And I thought my jokes were bad."

He didn't look at me or give any indication that we had met before. Part of me wondered if he was pretending we hadn't because he regretted it. He wore a new suit and it was purple as Maroni had known. It suited him so much more than the other. I had to admire his bravery in walking in here after stealing so much money. Everyone was glowering at him.

The look of sick fury on Gambol's face was obvious and as his eyes darted from me to the Joker I knew why. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off."

The guy next to him stood up and the Joker replied, "How about a magic trick?"

He stabbed a pencil into the table and Gambol looked at him in disbelief before indicating for the person next to him to throw the Joker out. The Joker seemed oblivious to it as he waved his hand over the pencil. "I am gong to make this pencil disappear."

As the guy approached him the Joker grabbed his head and slammed him into the pencil which lodged itself inside his brain and killed him. He fell to the floor. I laughed and my eyes glowed with vicious excitement but luckily it wasn't out of place – the Chechen was looking around at everyone, utterly impressed by the Joker's entrance. I was thankful for that.

"Ta-da!" The Joker shouted roughly, grabbing the chair next to me and sitting at the end of the table. "It's… Ahh, it's gone."

He looked up and caught my eye, then turned away. "Oh and the suit, it wasn't cheap. You ought to know, you bought it!"

Gambol stood up furiously, deciding to throw the Joker out himself when, luckily, the Chechen stopped him. "Sit. I want to hear proposition."

Gambol glared at the Joker, who licked his lips, pointed to the Chechen and waited for him to sit down. Angry at doing as he was told he settled for sitting and rubbing his fists. The fact he had put Gambol in his place stirred something inside me. Every single tiny movement he made, made me swoon. It was embarrassing but I couldn't stop it. The way he walked, and moved his hands as he spoke and his voice and face… everything. I couldn't stop staring but it didn't matter because everyone else was too.

"Let's wind the clocks back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn't _dare_ cross any of you." He said, and paused to look at everyone besides me. Perhaps he wasn't directing this at me. "I mean… What happened? Did your balls drop off? Hmm?

"You see a guy, like me –"

"Freak!" Gambol corrected sullenly.

The Joker looked at the table and muttered to himself. "A guy… Like… Me. Look, listen. I know why you choose to have your… little…" He coughed sarcastically. "Group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night. The Batman. You see, Batman has shown Gotham your true colours, unfortunately."

Gambol found it too hard to look at him without attacking so he stared at me with fury instead. The Joker continued. "Dent? He's just the beginning. And as for the, uh, televisions… so called _plan_. Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him, and make him squeal." He said, wringing his fists as though strangling someone.

"I know the squealers when I see them, and…" He pointed to Lau who turned off his camera and the television went blank. Having him so close was strange, I couldn't speak to him and he didn't include me in his speech about how pathetic the mob had got. I should probably be pleased by that, seeing as I still went out at night anyway, but instead I just worried.

"What do you propose?" The Chechen asked, innocently. He was always on my side even when he didn't realise it.

"It's simple. We, uh, _kill_ the Batman." He replied, running a hand through his hair.

Everyone laughed and the Chechen looked around, confused. He was taking the Joker deadly seriously.

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?" Maroni asked, sceptically.

"If you're good at something, never do it for free." He replied, pointing at Maroni.

"How much you want?" The Chechen asked, seriously.

The Joker leant forward and ran his tongue over his red lips. "Uh… half."

Again everyone laughed besides the Chechen who continued to take him seriously. Gambol said, "You're crazy."

"I'm not." The Joker replied with a deadly glint in his eye as he stared straight at Gambol threateningly. "No I'm no**t**."

Gambol stopped laughing and turned away, taking the Joker as seriously as the Chechen was.

"If we don't, deal with this, _now_. Soon…" He shrugged, pointing at Gambol. "Little, uh, Gambol, here, won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma."

Gambol snapped and slammed hand down on the table. "_Enough_ from the clown!"

"Ah ta ta ta ta, let's not _blow _this out of proportion." He replied, standing up as quickly as Gambol and opening his coat to reveal it full of bombs.

Everyone backed away and murmured worriedly except for me.

"You think you can just steal from us and walk away?"

"Yeah." The Joker replied, nodding.

"I'm putting the word out. Five hundred grand for this clown dead. A million alive, so I can teach him some manners first."

The Joker pointed threateningly at Gambol, his eyes narrowed in thought but I interrupted anything that would happen next. I jumped from my chair and the table cracked loudly under my harsh grip. I was too angry to speak.

He had taken it too far. I should have known that he would have found a way to get rid of the Joker but the fact that he even tried after everything that had happened to Jon exceeded my limit. I no longer cared for the rules. I wanted him dead. Our eyes were locked together and I could feel everyone's eyes on me – including the Joker's but I didn't care.

The only thing that stopped me killing him with my bare hands was the Chechen's hand on my arm. "Don't do anything stupid."

I wrenched my arm from his grip and stormed out, leaving all of them behind. Tears flowed from my cheeks but not with sadness – that was far from any emotion I was feeling. They were burning, angry tears that tried to release some of the loathing from my body.

I stopped outside, trying to sort out my thoughts. At the same time as I was trying to calm myself down I was planning his death. People stared at me in shock – I had left my coat behind. I ignored them all, trying to keep my body still – it shook violently.

A moment later Gambol came out of the exit and I launched for him but someone behind me had grabbed my wrists and was holding me back.

"Let me kill him!" I screeched.

The Chechen held me firmly away from Gambol, who wore a taunting smile and asked, "What's the matter? Have you got feelings for the freak?"

"What is wrong with you?" The Chechen asked him, roughly.

"I don't like thieves coming into our meeting and trying to rip us off."

"Get in the car." The Chechen ordered, pushing me inside.

I heard his voice, muffled through the car door. "If you hurt her again, I will kill you myself."

Then he got into the driver's seat and drove me home.

Before he let me out he said. "You would regret killing him. The mob is important to you."

I knew he was right but it did nothing to distil the brutal images racing through my imagination.

As soon as I got back inside I slammed the door with rage and stormed into my kitchen to get the biggest and sharpest knife from the drawer.

I admired its jagged edge. It was stained with someone else's blood already. I ran my finger gently over the edge.

"What happened?" A voice asked.

I gasped in shock, the serrated edge of the knife sliced my skin and it clattered to the floor noisily. The cut on my finger itched irritatingly but I ignored it because the Joker was stood right in front of me.

He held my wrist and turned it so he could admire the cut. "You didn't disappoint."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You did what I said." He replied, looking from the cut to my outfit.

The space in the kitchen was small and I backed away into the counters. His touch made me uncomfortable in a good way but I couldn't allow it to.

"Are you nervous?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you wear it?" He asked, tilting his head. His features were relaxed and he was blocking the door.

"I don't know. It felt like a game."

He laughed, his tongue making his lips shine. "What kind of game?"

He moved towards me so that he was close to me again but my way was blocked and I couldn't find the words to reply.

He asked a different question. "What do you like… about the mob?"

"I get to kill and attack people and no one dares stop me." I replied automatically.

"What stops you doing that by yourself?"

I thought about his question seriously. It made me confused. "The mob…"

He shook his head, his eyes wide as they stared at my face. "It's holding you back. They have all these rules and you don't like them. You don't need them."

He was so close… but luckily I had backed into the sink. I turned around under the pretence of washing the blood off my finger. "Why do you care?"

When I turned back he was still staring at my face but looked as though deciding which answer he wanted to use. "Because, we're similar, you and I."

"In what way?" I asked, interested.

"Well, we both want to ignore the rules. We both like killing. We both like theatrics." He leant closer to me, nodding and smacking his lips together. "We both want to have fu**n**."

"Where do you live?" I asked, wanting his trust and wanting to steer the conversation away from where it was headed.

He looked thoughtful and let out a deep breath. His gaze was so intense it was hard not to try and move past him. "I'll show you."

I locked my door as he smirked and led me through the forest.

"Wait." I called, and he turned around to face me. "Shouldn't I get changed?"

"Why?"

"Because… people will know who I am."

"That's the poin**t**." He replied with a smile and continued to walk. For most of the way we walked in silence. He took me along the path and we passed the place where he parked the bus yesterday. The walk lasted just over two miles and spun off in a winding path.

I would never have found this place if I hadn't been shown where it was. We walked up to the porch and I went to stand by the door, my foot knocking a tile that was sticking up slightly. In less than a second he pulled me away and tightly into his arms, protectively. I found out why a moment later as a bullet whizzed passed the spot where my head had just been. I wondered if he was as aware as me that our bodies were pressed firmly together.

I decided to make a joke out of the situation and swooned dramatically. "You saved my life! You're my hero. You should replace Batman. I'll have to be your slave in repayment."

He smirked darkly to himself and let go of me. As he turned away he giggled and pressed his thumb against a sensory pad. There were several clicks from behind the door.

"Did you get that with the money?" I asked, making conversation.

"Among other things."

"I'll let you go first then…" I replied, worried about other traps that might be hidden.

He walked into the house and I followed, my footsteps echoing on the dark, wooden floor. Directly in front of me were steps leading upstairs and to my left a door that I guessed led to the lounge.

This house gave me an eerie feeling, as though I was intruding on something private. He hung up his two blazers, leaving him in just his shirt, tie and waistcoat. He looked at me and licked his lips as though deciding what to do with me. He evidently decided against doing anything as he walked into the lounge and left me to follow.

His lounge was so strange. He had a huge fire with what looked like a plastic can of petrol next to it. There had been white walls but were now covered with blotches of red paint that had drip-marks running to the floor and staining the black carpet. It looked like he had just thrown the cans of paint at the walls… and he probably had.

I sat on one of the old, torn and dusty grey sofas as he went into the kitchen. When he returned he carried a bottle of whiskey with two glasses and a silver chain hanging from his green pocket.

"Try not to… bang your head this time." He grinned as he poured the glasses.

"What do you –" I began but then remembered, the night before Jon died I got wasted off whiskey and cut my head open on a tree. "Were you there?"

"I wanted to see what you'd do."

"If it looked like I was going to die, would you have helped?"

"It did."

I sipped the whiskey this time and thought about how bad the cut must have been. He hadn't answered the question but I didn't want to ask again. He drunk his too, thinking about something that I couldn't guess. I busied myself by admiring the paint splashes on the wall and trying to imagine him doing it. The thought almost made me laugh.

"You should… _stay_ in the mo**b**."

"Instead of…?" I asked. Only an hour earlier he had told me it was holding me back.

"_Instead,_ of killing Gambol."

"I can't stand him anymore. I don't want to see his face ever again." I noticed how boring my voice sounded in comparison to his.

"Why don't you _try_… to brea**k** him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… if he's so jealous, why don't you tease him?" He replied, his tongue darting across his lips and tilting his head to the side. I took another sip of the strong whiskey and it made my lips tingle.

"What would be the point? I'd be sick."

"To make him sna**p**. Then, when he breaks… he'll be out!"

I smiled cruelly at the thought of it. It gave me a glimpse into the way the Joker worked… he targeted certain people and brought them into a way of thinking that benefitted him. It was so… clever. The idea of planning Gambol's downfall was blissful.

"Teasing him won't make him jealous, it'll make him over-confident. It wouldn't work that way."

"Unless… you had someone that made him jealous." He nodded, his eyes glinting with malice.

"Someone like you?" I asked, and beamed with anticipation. Every organ seemed to be having its own electric party inside my body as random parts jumped and raced at different times. It made it incredibly hard to concentrate on composing myself – not that it seemed to matter because his eyes were alive with the thought of breaking someone.

His lips smacked together. "Someone like me."

My phone buzzed angrily in my purse.

I checked the screen and my nose wrinkled wit revulsion. "It's Gambol."

To my surprise, the Joker held his hand out for the phone. I walked over to his sofa and handed it to him. He quickly turned loudspeaker on and answered it.

"Red?" Gambol asked.

"No… Red's, uh, _busy_ at the moment."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Well, I thought you'd know."

There was a silence on the other end at the phone and the Joker grinned and ran his tongue over his lips in hunger.

"You're dead." Gambol said, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice.

"Oh, am I?"

"Red doesn't like _freaks_."

"Oh, well you'd better let her know because I think she's a bit… Ahh, confused."

Gambol made a noise close to a growl on the other end of the phone. "You stole her phone."

"Hear her for yourself." He said, grinning at me and passing me the phone.

"Red?" He asked, hoping I wouldn't be there.

"What?"

He replied after a long pause. "Get here now, or you're out of the mob."

"You don't have the power to do that." I told him, and I knew I was right.

"No, but when Maroni knows your with the freak –"

"Prove it."

He laughed bitterly. "I thought you were the type of girl who knew when she was being used."

"What's that meant to mean?"

"He's only bothered about you because you're in the mob."

"No, he isn't." I replied, but it didn't sound very convincing.

The Joker grabbed my face and turned it to look at him. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. The corner of his mouth twitched nervously – like it had in the bus – and he got up and left for the kitchen.

"He'll take your money, make his deal with the mob and then leave you for dead."

I closed my eyes and kept the plan the Joker had given me firmly in my mind as I replied. "Maybe that's what I want."

"You want –"

"You know what, Gambol? You're interrupting my… date." I answered abruptly and hung up. I picked up my glass and followed the edge of it with my finger, my eyes downcast.

Was I meant to pretend I hadn't noticed anything, or should I ask what I did wrong? He returned and walked next to the sofa and leant on the windowsill, looking out of the window behind me. His fingers gripped it and he looked angry at something. I was saved from making the decision of what to say by his voice.

"I want you to go to the bar tonight… Wearing that. I want you… to… sit with the Russian guy. And talk loudly about it."

"About what?"

There was a pause the length of a heartbeat before he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up, holding me trapped in between himself and the windowsill.

We both breathed heavily and looked into each other's eyes. His expression was seductive but quickly changed to become hard and guarded.

"Make it up."

"I'm not good at that." I replied with an evil smile, wanting him to go further.

His eyes narrowed and he licked his lips slowly. He let go of me and grabbed my hair with one hand.

"Come here." He said softly and turned my head to one side. I gasped as I felt his breath against my neck and I felt weak but he held me up by wrapping an arm tightly around my waist. I held on to his shoulders for support as his teeth gently touched my skin and then dug in as he sucked hard – branding me with a love bite as evidence. As he sucked even harder I felt dizzy as my blood rushed to the surface but couldn't break through the skin.

I dug my nails into his shoulder as hard as I could to handle the strange sensation in my neck. In response he pushed me roughly into the windowsill and his teeth almost broke the skin. He was getting carried away. I felt his scar against my jaw and his painted face against my skin. He balled my hair tighter in his fist and I groaned in pleasurable pain.

Upon hearing this he let go of me as if I had burned him. My fingers touched the tender spot on my neck and I winced with a smile. I could feel the dents his teeth had made. He paced away, taking a deep breath and filled his glass back up with whiskey. He checked his watch and looked thoughtful as he pressed his lips to the glass.

"You should go to the bar now."

I was too dazed to be upset by the dismissal so I just nodded and took another sip of whiskey.

"Is it safe to leave?" I asked, remembering the bullet that almost killed me on the way in. He nodded silently and I left, down the winding path. It was twilight outside but I wished I had my coat to hide in. Luckily, the only police officers that stayed near Falcone's bar were corrupt.


	12. Chapter 12

I stepped into the bar and the people who hadn't already seen me dressed in my outfit gawped. I went to sit with the Chechen, positioning myself so that Gambol and I were facing each other.

"Where have you been?" He asked.

"With a guy." I grinned back. Gambol looked at me bitterly, knowing it was always a bad idea to make accusations with no proof. I hadn't seen myself in a mirror so I couldn't tell what the love bite looked like but the Chechen had spotted it instantly and looked concerned.

"What happened to your neck?" He asked, pulling my hair away so that it was visible. I was placed perfectly and the whole mark was in Gambol's line of sight.

"You know how it is when you've just got chemistry." I said, slightly louder than I usually would under the Joker's command. "First date and you get carried away. I can't wait to see him again."

The Chechen was grinning along with me and had a knowing look in his eye that told me he knew exactly who had done it. "When do I meet this mystery guy?"

"I'm sure you'll meet him without realising it's him."

"I haven't seen you so happy in a while! This calls for drinks!"

The waiter came over, followed by Gambol. "Mind if I join you?"

The Chechen eyed him dangerously but I just smiled sweetly. "Of course, I'm in an excellent mood."

The Chechen ordered the drinks and then whispered almost silently in my ear. "You have paint on your neck."

I couldn't help laughing as I subtly tried to wipe it off. Gambol glared at me as he spoke. "How long do you think it will be before someone gets the reward I'm offering for the Joker?"

The Chechen clenched his fist but I placed a hand over it. I could feel Maroni's eyes reviewing the situation but a glance from the corner of my eye told me he was staring suspiciously at Gambol rather than me. "About the same length of time it'll be before you find a girlfriend."

"What makes you think I'm in the market?" He asked, although he looked embarrassed.

"What makes you think I care about the Joker?" I replied, for Maroni's benefit.

"You've got white on your neck." He replied through gritted teeth.

"I know, it's healing cream. I must not have rubbed it in properly. It was quite sore when I put it on. I hope you aren't accusing me of anything Gambol, if you are you might as well just come out with it." I replied, my eyes and voice steady.

His voice sounded strained as he replied. "Not at all."

The waiter came back and put drinks in front of us all. I had just put the glass to my lips when Maroni dragged me out of the seat.

"I got a call. Someone saw you and they've called the police. They're on their way. I'll keep them here for as long as I can but you've got to run."

The grave expression told me that the police wouldn't take too kindly to me if they caught me and I didn't need telling twice. I grabbed my purse and ran from the bar. I was out of the tunnel when I heard them. Unfortunately, Maroni didn't get the chance to stall them because one of them saw me and they all chased me. The difference was that they had guns.

I reached the edge of my forest and reached for my keys. The plan was to shout for the wolves when I got closer to my house. That was the plan. I never got a chance to put it into action. A bullet grazed my leg, leaving a fairly deep gash. I stumbled and fell to the floor in pain. As I fell, my keys slipped from my hand and fell down a deep rabbit hole. I murmured to myself worriedly as I reached inside for my keys but the police were coming too close. I dragged myself behind a tree and checked my wound. I would be okay for a few hours but I desperately needed my sewing kit from inside my house and now I had no way of getting inside.

I had two choices. Stay here and get caught or run. Focusing on my father's face I grabbed the tree and stood up. I tested my leg by putting weight on it. The pain was agonizing but it could have been worse: at least it wasn't broken.

I pressed my lips together to give my mind something else to focus on and to stop myself from yelling out as I hobbled as fast as I could through the forest. Almost every fibre in my body was telling me not to go to the Joker's house. The logical part of me was telling me that he was the only other person who could get into my house and I needed to sew my leg up soon otherwise I'd be in trouble.

And just a tiny part of me wanted to. As much as I dreaded the coldness he sometimes radiated and turning up unannounced and possibly unwanted… a small part of me thought it would be worth it to be able to speak to him for a short while.

The voices of etiquette and lust meant nothing compared to the pain in my leg and the hard fact that I needed to sew myself up urgently. I was soon running from the forest although with each step I took my injured leg got more and more shaky and wobbly until I was trying to hop so that it wouldn't give way. I didn't want to risk falling to the floor and not being able to stand back up.

Finally I was on the long winding path and the police had lost me. I placed my hand on a hedge so I could rest for a moment. I panted with pain and tears rolled from my eyes because I was trying to keep it all inside rather than scream. It felt like I had torn the gash wider from running. I moved my hand gingerly down my leg. I could feel cold, damp blood but also dried blood. Running had made it so much worse and I now didn't care if he wanted me there and didn't care about my feelings for him. I was filled with panic that told me I needed to sort it out right away. I limped slowly up towards his house and getting there took me over half an hour. The stones surrounding his house crunched under my foot and made me lose balance. I dragged myself the last few paces and pushed down on the tile that set off the gunshot.

It worked and a bullet tore through the silence of the night. Less then a minute had passed before the Joker stepped out of his house with a knife in his hand.

"It was me." I told him.

He looked down at me but then caught sight of my wound. "What happened?"

"A bullet grazed me. I need to get into my house to get the sewing kit, I've been bleeding for about an hour and it's getting bad. I dropped my keys in a hole and you're the only person that can get in without them." I said, gasping in pain as more teardrops rolled over my cheeks. He just stared at me for a few seconds as though he were calculating something. Then he bent down and picked me up with ease and carried me inside.

Now I could see myself in the light I realised I looked dangerously pale and blood was covering the whole of my right leg. I felt lightheaded and was glad he was carrying me so I didn't have to hop anymore. I wanted to sleep…

"Stay awake." The Joker warned me.

"I can't." I replied, my speech slurred from exhaustion. I closed my eyes again.

"Look at me." He demanded and I made an effort to as he put me on the sofa. He left the room but came back quickly. With incredible difficulty I touched my leg. It was still wet and bleeding. I panicked.

In his hands he held a needle and some surgical thread. He told me to stay still as the needle pierced me repeatedly and he yanked my skin shut. To take my mind of the pain I tried to focus on his face. His features looked so soft when he was concentrating, probably because he wasn't thinking. It was quite strange. My phone buzzed and the Joker handed it to me before going back to sewing up my leg.

"Hello?" I asked, barely finding the energy to speak.

"Red, did you get away?" The Chechen asked.

"Mm. I got shot."

"Shot? Where?"

"It grazed my leg. I'm alive." I told him. I was going to say I was fine but that wasn't strictly true.

"Where are you?"

"Where am I?" I asked the Joker.

"You're here." He replied, without looking up. The needle pierced my skin again and I gasped.

"I don't know." I replied to the Chechen. "I'm being sewn up."

"By who?"

"Uh… A friend."

"Come to mine and I'll look after you."

"Hold on." I replied and covered the speaker with my hand as I spoke to the Joker. "He said he'll look after me. I don't want to be alone, I'm worried about it."

"You can stay here." He replied.

"Are you being serious?" I asked, shocked. I had only meant that I needed to get to somewhere where the Chechen could meet me. He smirked.

"Of course."

I spoke to the Chechen again. "It's okay, I'm being… uh… looked after."

"Are you sure?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

"I'll see you soon." He replied and I let my phone fall next to me. The rest happened in silence. The Joker finished giving me stitches and went back into the kitchen, only to return with a flannel, towel and some soapy water. He placed the towel underneath my leg and cleaned it for me. The flannel tickled me as the water dripped upwards to the top of my leg and made me blush but he hadn't noticed.

When the blood had gone he used the towel to pat my leg dry. My dress was soaking from the water he cleaned me with and it was covered in mud.

"Give me your _dress_." He ordered, licking his lips.

"What do you mean?" I asked. My face had turned a deep red and I cursed my mom for not teaching me how to control blushing.

"I want you to wear it tomorrow. I'll… wash it."

"Okay…" I replied, waiting for him to leave the room. He didn't but looked at me, expectantly. "Now?"

He laughed and nodded. For some insane reason I was smiling. I held his shoulder as I tried to stand and took off my dress, handing it to him. He went into the kitchen and then came back through the lounge to run upstairs. I wondered what on earth I was doing sat in just my underwear.

He returned and threw a shirt at me. I recognised it as the fraying one that he wore when he robbed the bank. I quickly put it on and buttoned it up.

"So, what happened?" He asked.

"Someone called the police and they chased me. I dropped my keys when they shot my leg. Does it look horrible?" I asked as he walked into the kitchen to fetch glasses and what looked like pink champagne.

"That _depends_ on whether you think scars _look_ _bad_." He nodded, handing me a glass and taking a large gulp from his own.

I paused before answering. "I think they look good."

He narrowed his eyes slightly but then returned to normal. "How did it go at the bar?"

"As you thought it would. He came so close to accusing me without proof. It's working." I replied. "How come you're staying hidden?"

He tilted his head and ran his tongue slowly over his lips before replying. "Timing is everything. Things need to be set up."

"It's not too late for me to go and stay with the Chechen if you don't want me here." I replied, feeling his disconnected vibe. "You can say if you don't."

He smacked his lips and let out a big sigh. Then he came to sit next to me and looked into my eyes as he replied. "I do want you here."

His eyes were so mysterious. I couldn't tell whether they were grey, violet or black. They were strange and held my attention as much as Jon's liquid blue ones had. I had been here before so I turned away.

"Do you mind if I go to sleep?" I asked, desperate to get away from his gaze.

"Do you need… uh… _help_ getting up the stairs?"

"Where am I sleeping?"

"In my be**d**."

I hesitated. "Where are you sleeping?"

"In… my… bed."

"Oh." I replied. I was too exhausted and weak from the loss of blood to feel much.

"You _said_ you wanted taking… _care _of."

"I didn't –"

"Is there a problem?"

I just shook my head. I stood up and hopped over to the stairs in bare feet, wearing only my underwear and the Joker's shirt. There was no railing and a fall from one side of the stairs so I hopped onto the first few steps with my arms stretched out for balance. Against my better judgement I tried to stand on my injured foot.

It immediately gave way and I stumbled off the side of the stairs, managing to cling on with my fingers. The Joker laughed and came to help me but I ignored the gesture and swung myself back onto the steps. After that though, I was stuck and did need help.

He picked me up again and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He carried me into his bedroom and looked down at me. He looked at me for a while before helping my stand carefully on the floor next to the bed.

"I'll be back." He told me and left the room.

His room also looked like paint had been thrown at the walls although some of it had been smeared with his handprints. The walls were green and the carpet was a plum coloured purple.

I curled up underneath the covers. The shirt was soft and comforting. It smelt of him. A few minutes passed before he came back. He warned me against wandering about at night and I didn't want to know what sort of security devices he had set for when he slept.

He kept his shirt and trousers on but took everything else off before coming to bed. I doubted it would be comfortable but I said nothing against it. He turned off the lights before sliding in beside me.

"Aren't you going to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight?" I laughed.

I felt his lips brush against my cheek before he rolled over onto his other side. I don't know whether it was the darkness or the fact I was wearing his shirt but I grabbed his shoulder and he turned back towards me.

"Thanks for stitching me up." I whispered and I leant towards him to kiss the scar running along his cheek.

It happened so fast it was confusing. In an instant he was on top of me, pinning my arms down and his face inches from mine. Then he groaned angrily and moved off me again.

"It's… fine." He replied, leaving me to wonder if anything had happened at all. I felt the soft material of his shirt against my cheek and it was as comforting as a childhood toy. I fell asleep quickly.

_I was twelve years old again and wandering down the alley that lost me the little I had of a childhood. At the end was the big man, I knew what was going through his dirty mind but my dad was stood next to him._

_At first I felt relief, I wouldn't get raped, my dad would kill him and I could go home._

_Then I saw the disgusted look in my father's eye and knew what would happen._

"_After all the time we spent discussing people's mistakes you make all of them at once. You know the only way to learn from your mistakes is to feel the punishment."_

_My dad left and the man advanced. I turned and ran, sprinting away as fast as I could but it wasn't fast enough. As I ran I got older until I was the age I am now and I finally outran the man chasing me._

_I thought it was over. I thought I was safe._

_But my Dad had caught me instead. He grabbed my legs and pulled them up so that my head smashed to the floor. Then he beat me like he always used to almost every day. From behind him I could see all the people that were close to me._

_Gambol was smirking. The Chechen was looking horrified. Maroni looked thoughtful, as though I wasn't as useful as he thought I was._

_And the Joker wore a look of familiarity on his face. Like he'd seen this happen one too many times. He walked away._

_And no one stopped him and I was bleeding and he wouldn't stop and his fist collided with my face once more…_

"You're going to kill me!" I screamed. Why wouldn't anyone do anything? Why wouldn't they stop him?

The Joker turned to look at me and rubbed his eyes groggily. I slapped a hand to my mouth.

"Oh, sorry. I had a nightmare."

"What about?" He asked, tiredly.

I sighed shakily. "My childhood."

I got out of bed and walked over to the window, pressing my head against the cold glass pane. The moon was so bright outside but the black sky was turning blue. My leg stung as I walked but I hardly felt it.

"Sorry I woke you. You can go back to sleep." I told him, my voice sounding empty. I was deep in thought. Self-pity was never a good thing.

A moment later a set of hands leant on the windowsill either side of me. His breath warmed my neck and made me shiver.

"Do you want to, uh…" He sighed. "Talk about it?"

"Do you care?" I asked, sensing his coldness already. He chose to ignore the question.

"Was it your father?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

I hesitated, wondering where to start – wondering if I should even bother. "When I was younger we lived in Go- America. I went out looking for trouble in a notoriously bad place. I almost got raped but I escaped. Then we moved… out of the country." I said, choosing my words carefully. "And he trained me. He always fought me, usually until I fell unconscious or broke some bones or something serious. He never stopped. Not even on my birthdays."

"Did you kill him?" The Joker asked.

"No! When I was in the situation I didn't realise. And my mom loves him."

Then his voice changed. "Why did you come to Gotham?"

"Because… I'd heard about Batman. He sounded interesting."

"You came here before Batman." He replied, with no trace of uncertainty in his voice.

"How do you kn –"

"Why did you come?"

"Does it matter?"

He didn't reply, but put his lips close to my ear. "Come back to bed."

I followed him back to the bed and tried to fall asleep again. Long minutes passed by silently. The Joker's breathing eventually made me relaxed enough to sleep properly. My phone buzzed from the floor just before I managed to fall back into my dreams.

I groaned and answered it, noting as I looked at the screen that it was just past five o'clock in the morning.

"Hello?" I asked groggily.

"Maroni told me what happened."

"What happened…? Gambol, it's too early. Call me later." The Joker rolled over to face me and evidently he hadn't fallen asleep either.

"With the police. And your leg."

"Well, as you can hear I'm fine."

"Why didn't you go with the Chechen?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake Gambol, can't you call me later?" I yelled, irritably.

"Where are you? Maroni wants to know."

I shook my head angrily and turned off the phone.

It rang again.

"You know I'm with the Joker so just leave us alone."

"Red?" My heart skipped a beat. My mind fell silent in panic and I forced myself to breathe out calmly.

"Maroni. Why are you calling so early?"

The Joker sat up next to me slowly and took my hand in his so that he could turn loud-speaker on the phone.

"We've all been worried about you. You got shot, that's not a good thing. That means that they have orders to kill you and we wanted an early meeting so we can try and avoid having you out in the daytime."

"Right."

"I don't know why you wear your disguise now and I don't care, what I do want to know is what you're doing with the Joker."

He was looking at me, waiting for my response as much as Maroni was. His black eyes pierced my own and for a second I got lost in them before I pulled myself together.

I had no idea how to answer without giving away that I knew where the Joker was or that we were working together. Suddenly, an idea came to me. "I'll call you back in a minute." I replied, and hung up.

Quickly, I sent a text to the Chechen: _You've ordered me to find out more about him._

Then I waited and the Joker looked at me, questioningly. A minute passed and I raised the phone to return the call so that the Joker could still hear.

"Red, what's going on?" He asked.

I replied in a whisper. "Shh! He thinks I've just gone to the bathroom. The Chechen wants to know if he can be trusted so I'm trying to find out more about him before we make a deal with him. He knew too much for his own good."

"These are the Chechen's orders?"

"Yes but they're meant to be secret. If too many people know the Joker might find out."

"You're getting in too deep Red and I want you to get out."

I opened my mouth to speak but the Joker pulled me towards him and muttered in my ear. "Tell him you'll stop."

I hesitated but then replied in a hushed voice. "Alright. I'll leave quickly. You'll have to tell the Chechen."

"No problem." He replied. "Meet us today as soon as you can."

I threw the phone back onto the floor and rubbed my eyes exhaustedly. "Can I have a shower?"

He nodded and stood up, pressing his thumb against another sensor pad that I hadn't noticed. It beeped three times and then he moved aside, pointing towards the bathroom.

I stepped inside and turned to lock the door before realising there was no lock. I shut it tightly. I was incredibly shocked by the bathroom. It looked really nice, like a hotel's bathroom. Clearly this was a room he hadn't decorated. After a few minutes of trying to work out how to use the shower I stepped under the hot water and was relieved that it didn't hurt my newly stitched leg.

The shower was so powerful that it only took me two minutes to wash my hair and get all the shampoo out as well as washing my body. I was out of the bathroom again in seconds, wrapped in a black towel.

My hair sent freezing drips of water down my back and I shivered as I wondered what to do next. I padded downstairs after putting my underwear back on and found the Joker sat studying a newspaper carefully for anything that might be interesting. He threw my dress towards me and I quickly slipped it on – his eyes never left the newspaper to notice me.

"I'd better go." I prompted.

He licked his lips as he stood up and walked upstairs. When he came back down he was fully dressed in his suit and had his shirt in his hands. "Wear this." He told me. Perhaps he'd noticed me shivering but either way I put it on gratefully.

I walked beside him towards the forest, not complaining about the pain in my leg and trying not to limp. He didn't speak as we approached my house and he got out a keychain so full with keys that they hardly had room to spin around. He located the ones for my house and unlocked the door. I was strangely surprised when it worked and wondered what all the other keys were for.

If I had expected him to give me the keys to my house I was mistaken. He rushed away as soon as the door was open and as he left I could sense the coldness about him when I knew he wanted to get far away from me. I didn't understand it.

I sighed as I walked into my house alone, realising I was still wearing his shirt. I needed some fun. At the moment I was stuck in the middle of whatever was going on between the mob and the Joker. I couldn't figure him out. Sometimes he tried to seduce me and then other he hated me as though I repulsed him. He made no sense, although perhaps things would have been stranger if he did make sense.

Everything always felt so dramatic. Balancing dangerous jobs for the mob, Gambol, Maroni and whichever freak I had found and had to hide from them was exhausting. For once I just wanted to have some fun. Not the kind of fun that came from killing people but the kind of fun that came with…

Charlotte.


	13. Chapter 13

The sun shone brightly outside, so I wore the shortest shorts I could find and a strappy top. Gotham was far too hot in the summer. I pulled my hair back into pigtails so that any passing breeze would touch my neck and wore a pair of killer heels. Almost everyone in Gotham was wearing as little as possible in this heat, so I wouldn't stand out from the crowd.

I stopped off at the restaurant first. The meeting didn't take long and was mostly about the safety precautions I should be taking. I chose to ignore the warnings; they took life far too seriously. I found it almost laughable that they didn't go out at night because of Batman and now they thought I should only go out in the mornings because of the police. Soon they'd be telling me not to come out at all.

After leaving, I parked outside Charlotte's salon. When I walked inside she looked really stressed out – the room was hot and stuffy and filled with people waiting to have something done.

"Charlotte." I called and she spun around angrily. When she spotted me her face lit up and she pulled me into the small room where she had made my disguise… I didn't want to think about that.

"Thank God!" She gasped.

"What?" I asked, almost alarmed.

She grinned up at me. "Someone normal. I need you."

I laughed at the thought of being normal and replied. "What for? All the girly-girls driving you mad?"

"It's not that. I've got a date… sort of."

"Okay…"

"Sit down and I'll do your hair." She replied cheerily and I had the feeling she was trying to get on my good side. "Shit, what happened to your leg?"

I touched the lump of skin that had been sewn closed. "Bullet."

She wasn't listening though, she came back with a bottle of nail varnish in her hands.

"I thought you were doing my hair." I laughed.

"Oh. Well, hair… nails… it's all good." She replied as she applied the first coat of paint to my thumb nail.

"So, tell me about this date." I reminded her. She gave up on the nail varnish and looked up at me, smiling but with nervousness in her eyes.

"Well, we're meeting at a club and I said he could bring his friend along and I didn't want to get ready and go on my own… Then his friend would be left out too and it would be awful."

"So you need someone to get ready and turn up with you, then sidetrack his friend. You're telling me no one in this salon would jump at the chance to do that?"

"I haven't… told them." I stared at her, waiting for her to continue and she sighed. "You remember I told you about my ex, Garfield, the pyromaniac? Well, we're meeting up again because he's just got out of Arkham with his friend from the asylum."

"I come for a chat and end up with a blind date from a mental hospital. Sounds fun."

"Oh, come on Ruby, it _will_ be fun!"

I shook my head disbelievingly with a grin on my face. "When?"

"Tomorrow night." She beamed. "Are you saying yes?"

I couldn't disappoint the look of excitement on her face and I felt, for some crazy reason, just as excited. I decided it was the change of spending time with a girl just as odd as me and not having to worry about which act I have to put on.

"Alright."

"Yay!" She grinned, grabbing my hand and painting my nails enthusiastically.

When she was done she led me out of the salon, with angry shouts following her through the door.

"Aren't you a bit busy?"

"We're never too busy to go shopping for some sexy clubbing-wear." She grinned as she practically ran through to the closest designer shop.

"How about this?" She asked, holding up a red halter-neck dress with a neckline so low that my belly-button would be visible. The expression on my face said it all.

"No, look. It's got a clasp to hold it together just under your boobs. It's meant to be like that."

"No." I replied and she frowned but put it back on the rack.

"Haven't you ever been to a club?"

"There's going to a club and then there's working as a stripper." I replied, picking up a black dress from the rail.

"No! Don't be stupid, you've got to wear red. It's your colour and besides, if you wear black you won't get seen in that club."

She picked up a white, flutter-sleeve mini dress in thin, light material. "You do know you're meeting a crazy person and not a vicar?"

"Well, yeah. I'm going for the sweet and innocent look." She replied with a wink.

"But you aren't…"

"Exactly. I'm role-playing. He'd the bad guy and I'm the victim. Then when we go back to his he'll be rougher… He'll get it anyway." She replied, seeing my confused expression. I started giggling.

"Okay then Miss Know-It-All, what does it mean when a guy tells you what to wear?" I asked, genuinely trying to find an in-sight into the Joker's mixed signals even though I'd sworn to forget about him and the mob while with Charlotte. I was awful at keeping promises to myself.

"What is he asking you to wear?"

"My outfit. But in front of other people, without him there."

"So, he's playing games?"

"I don't really know…"

"Maybe he likes the idea of having control over you."

I thought about that despairingly. The way he sometimes despised me made it obvious it wasn't sexual, maybe Gambol was right and he was using me.

"His friend better be worth this."

She hid her face guiltily and pretended to be searching for something for me to wear. "We'll get you nice and drunk before we go."

I picked up a casual jumper dress which she instantly grabbed off me and put back on the rail. "You're meant to be _distracting_ his friend, remember?"

I groaned as I searched for something that looked more prostitute-like.

"This is perfect!" She shouted, thrusting a dress into my hands. It was a bright red, collared-halter, mini dress. It was tight-fitting and had a black zip that went down to my belly button. I shook my head exasperatingly as I went to pay for it. At least it only cost thirty dollars.

I thought that was it but we had to find silver jewellery to go with her dress so that her grey eyes would stand out more. Apparently mine was better without jewellery. The dress was bad enough.

Before we got back to the salon and I slid onto my bike she said, "When you come to mine tomorrow make sure you've just washed your hair and don't do anything to it or put any make-up on. Bring some shoes. I'll keep your dress."

I just nodded, letting her do what she liked before speeding off, the cool air like paradise on my boiling skin.

When I got home I faced the Joker's shirt lying on my bed where I had left it. Trying to keep my promise to myself I grabbed it and shoved it into my wardrobe without sparing it a glance.

The next day at five o'clock I was sitting in a tree, trying to relax and wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to leave the mob and go freelance, and also wondering what I'd do even if I did. There wasn't anything I particularly wanted to do and then me and the Chechen would be working against each other. I almost felt I owed it to him to stay in the mob.

I climbed higher, to a thick, sturdy branch that stuck out further than the rest. I rested myself on the trunk of it and wondered about what Garfield's friend would be like. I hoped he would be… sexy. And dangerous. And really strong.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my daydreams.

"Hi Gambol."

"There's a meeting tonight at the bar. Try and be subtle this time."

"I can't make it." I replied quickly, before he could put the phone down.

"Why not?" He asked, as though through gritted teeth.

"Relax." I told him wearily. "I'm going out with a friend… a girlfriend. She's got a date and the guy's bringing his mate so she wanted me there."

"What's his friend's name?"

"Oh God Gambol, I don't know! I have no idea who they are." I could do without these annoying phone-calls for one thing.

"Well, where are you going?"

"Just… to a club. I don't know which one, I've never been clubbing in Gotham before. I'm not going to take my phone either." That was a lie, but I really didn't want him bothering me all night. I wanted one night where I could just pretend I had no worries or responsibilities.

He grunted and hung up on me.

A message on my phone popped up, telling me I had a voicemail. I listened to the message. It was from Charlotte.

"Ruby, it's Charlotte. I hope you aren't answering this because you're in the shower. If not then why aren't you in the shower? Come straight here when you're done. I've closed the salon early so we can use it to get ready. The club's just around the corner. Hurry up, I've got booze and we'll only have two hours to get so pissed that we can dance properly!"

I grinned to myself as I examined the height from the branch to the ground. I crouched down, took a deep breath, and back flipped from the branch to the floor, doing three turns as I fell.

I landed it almost perfectly but turned my stumble into a run as I raced into the shower.

After getting out I put on the first things I picked up, grabbed a pair of heels and revved the engine of my bike.

Within thirty minutes I was at the salon.

"What took you so long?" She asked as she pulled me in. She poured me a large vodka and coke with far too much vodka for my first glass. It tasted strangely of coke and nail-varnish remover. I wrinkled my nose but took a huge gulp anyway, desperate to get drunk quickly so I wouldn't taste it as much.

She styled my hair into huge, bouncy curls after I pulled the halter neck over my head. I zipped it up to the top.

"What are you doing?" I yelled as she unfastened my bra.

"It's a halter neck dress. You can't wear a bra with it! The dress is padded anyway, don't worry."

"I don't like this it's weird… How am I meant to dance like this?"

"The dress has got a bra shape to it anyway, you'll hardly notice." She grinned as she reached for her glass and tripped slightly on the way. I laughed and wondered how early she had started drinking as I took another gulp of my own.

She told me which make-up to put on and I did it myself as well as hers. I don't think she trusted her hand-eye coordination anymore. It was lucky because I didn't either.

Eight o'clock came far too fast for her and as it approached she became more and more nervous which came out in fits of giggles. Her red hair bounced as she skipped out of the door. Her innocent plan worked and she looked really sweet. She was slightly more drunk than me, although that wasn't saying much as the sidewalk looked blurry when I tried to concentrate on it.

"In here!" She called and dragged me into a dark room with ultra-violet lights that made Charlotte's dress stand out brightly.

There were quite a few people inside already but Charlotte could tell they hadn't arrived yet. She ordered a drink to 'calm her nerves' although I didn't think it was really helping. I bought a drink with her anyway and we leant against a wall. I pressed my heel against it and Charlotte tapped her hand against her leg to keep in time with the music.

We got up to dance at a few songs and the place soon got really crowded so we moved somewhere where we could still keep an eye on the door. They came in just after half-past nine.

"Oh my God, it's them!" She squealed. "Let's go and dance."

"Should we not go and greet them first?" I asked.

"Just come on!" She yelled over the loud music, pulling me onto the floor where she yanked the zip of my dress down further to expose some cleavage. We danced as though we had been dancing all night and Charlotte made me tell her when he'd seen us and point dramatically. She turned innocently, as though she hadn't known he was there.

Garfield was really tall and had black hair and dark black circles surrounding his eyes. He had a manic smile and was flicking a lighter in his hands. He looked terrifying and Charlotte beckoned them over, throwing me an apologetic look. A few seconds later I realised why.

His friend was far from the strong, dangerous guy I had hoped for. He was wiry and kept flinching nervously. He looked weedy and had huge eyes that darted around as though someone was going to shoot him at any second. His shirt was bright white and stood out blindingly when the lights hit it.

I smiled at him kindly. "I'm Ruby."

"I'm T-Tom." He replied. I grimaced internally.

"Let's get a drink." I said, and led him towards the bar as Charlotte giggled at something Garfield had whispered in her ear. The music pumped through the speakers loudly and there was electricity in the air that connected everyone together as though we were all part of the same thing so I didn't really mind that Tom was so pathetic, I found it amusing.

When we'd finished I pulled him back to the dance floor.

I remembered how my mum used to dance and because I didn't know any different, I danced like she did. I swayed my hips and flipped my hair behind me as though I was a slave to the DJ.

I pulled him closer and he looked at me as though he'd just won the lottery. The amazement on his face as he stared at my chest made me feel embarrassed and sick so I turned around instead and grabbed his hands, pressing them against my hips. He clearly didn't know how to dance so he just moved from side to side as I danced against him.

Charlotte owed me so much. Five songs had passed before he stuttered in my ear. "I'm just going to the t-toilet."

I sighed in relief and Charlotte called me over. Garfield ignored my presence as he kissed her shoulder and kept her pushed against the wall. I grinned at her and she winked.

"Who was that guy looking at you?"

"Where?" I asked, following her gaze.

"Oh, he's gone now but he looked really jealous."

I groaned angrily. "Was he tall with dark hair?"

"Yeah, he didn't look happy."

"It must've been Gambol, I told him I was coming here."

I went back onto the dance floor to dance by myself while I could and give them some privacy. Two songs had passed before I saw the sleeve of Tom's white shirt as he put his hand back on my hip.

"You took a while." I laughed.

Someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head to the side with his other hand around my throat.

"Don'**t** sto**p**." A familiar voice commanded in my ear. It couldn't be… but I didn't dare look back or it would give us both away. I pressed my body against his and swayed in time to the music as his hands roamed my thigh and stomach, making me shiver. He pulled the zip slightly lower.

I was drunk enough not to care about the consequences as I rubbed myself against him sinfully and teasingly. I held his hand and pulled it upwards so it just skimmed my chest without touching anything.

He pulled his hand away furiously and grabbed my throat at the back of my head, pushing me out of the club and making it look as though his arm was around me.

As soon as we were out he grabbed me by the arm and led me down an alleyway, until we were far away from the main street.

He pushed me roughly against a wall as he sucked at my neck, one hand gripping my hair and the other moving from my throat to the inside of my bra-less dress. I wrapped my leg around him; sense leaving me as the lust controlled me. He just pushed me harder into the wall behind me and the hand holding my hair held onto my leg instead and slid further up my thigh.

I was hot and wet and moaned loudly as his fingers reached me. He moved my thong aside and pushed two fingers inside me and I screamed with pleasure. His other hand placed a hard slap around my face but instead of hurting it felt blissfully good.

I started back into his eyes with a masochistic gleam and he laughed as he moved his mouth down to where my neck met my shoulder and pushed his fingers harder.

I whispered his name and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge. He pulled his fingers out of me and replaced them with something much bigger and harder. My eyes opened wide in shock as I felt him inside me and he pressed a hand over my mouth so that no one would hear. His nails dug into my thigh as he watched my expression with lust. I squeezed my eyes shut tight but he slapped me hard again before quickly putting his other hand back over my mouth to stop me moaning loudly. I hadn't felt like this before and my head felt like it was spinning.

"Look at me." He growled. He was wearing Tom's clothes and had no make-up on. I stroked my fingers against his scar to remind myself that it was him. His tongue flitted over his lips and that movement drove me crazy. My eyes opened wide as I screamed in orgasm and throbbed around him. He pushed harder and faster so that it hurt but felt even better and moments later he came inside me, his nails gripping my thigh so hard he broke the skin. Sirens sounded in the background and he laughed evilly.

So much for ignoring him.

"Come on." He muttered as we both fixed our clothes. He put his arm around me casually and pulled me into a car he had parked outside. We sped away from the club and he came to a sharp stop outside the salon where I had left my bike. I grinned at him as I got out and back onto my bike, heading for home. I quickly caught up to him and overtook him with a smirk before swerving into the forest and going back inside my house that would now have to remain permanently unlocked.

I hopped into the hot shower to clean myself off. As the water poured over me I relived what had just happened. I couldn't quite believe it. When I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror I noticed that both sides of my neck were bitten and badly bruised, one looked more raw than the other and spread down to my shoulder. I had a lump on the side of my right leg that had clear stitches of where it had been sewn together and my other leg had fingernail marks in that were bright red but the dried blood had washed away.

I studied myself from different angles and thought it looked quite impressive. I bit my lip as I decided what to wear that night but finally gave in and wore the Joker's shirt. It felt odd sleeping with the door unlocked but I felt so relaxed that I had no problem falling asleep.

In the morning I woke up to find a present left on my bedside table. It was a heavy silver chain necklace with a huge "J" on it with a crown sat on the corner of the letter. A note was underneath it which I picked up sleepily and read.

_Wear just my shirt and the necklace today. No shoes._

I grinned but felt slightly nervous at the thought of wearing no shoes – I looked tiny without them!

I checked my phone and had several missed calls from Charlotte and one voicemail.

"Ruby, it's me. Everyone had to leave the club last night because Tom was found dead in the toilets. They said his cheeks had been carved open… it's horrible. Where are you Rube? Are you safe?"

I sent her a quick text back. _I'm safe. I left early. I hope you had a good night. Sorry to hear about Tom._

Before I had the chance to send it my phone buzzed. It was Gambol. I groaned as I answered.

"Hi, Gambol."

"I want you to meet up with me today in my snooker hall. We need to get a few things straight."

I glanced to the necklace on my bedside table and wondered if the Joker had known this would happen. "What like?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. You've got an hour." He replied, and ended the call. I finished sending the text and styled my hair, placing the necklace over my head. I rolled the sleeves of the shirt up so that I could stay cooler and checked myself out in the mirror before I left. I realised that all of the bruising on my neck was visible as well as the stitching and nail marks. I wondered if he had known this when he left the note.

I smirked to myself as I looked at the huge 'J' hanging from my neck. This would make Gambol furious. It also made me squirm a bit inside and reminded me of what Charlotte had said.

_Maybe he likes the idea of having control over you._

The question was, did I like that idea? Truthfully, I had never felt as confident as I did now in my whole life: In his shirt, with his necklace and all the scars and bruises he had given me on show. I felt powerful.

I had no idea why as I padded out of the house bare-footed and headed to his snooker hall. I received strange glances as people noticed my lack of shoes but it didn't matter to me, it just made me laugh.

I stepped inside and he looked up at me before taking his shot. His smile quickly turned into a look of disgust as he took everything in. He chalked his cue as he glared at me.

"What the fuck do you think you look like?"

"Well, you only gave me an hour. I came straight here."

I thought I heard his cue splinter slightly. "Want a game?"

"Okay." I smiled ecstatically. The events from last night leaving me in an exceptionally good mood.

We were on our second game when we were interrupted. Two of his best men walked in.

"Yo Gambol. There's somebody here for you. They say they've just killed the Joker."

"They've brought the body."

Everything crashed down on me. I couldn't believe it. Had they caught him this morning or on the way back from my house? It was as though all my precious happiness had been taken away and given to Gambol. I hadn't seen him smile so widely in months and he spared me a smug glance before walking towards the men.

Two of Gambol's strongest men carried a black body-bag in, followed by some enthusiastic men that looked around. I glared at them as acid rose in my throat. I committed their faces to memory. I'd make sure each one of them suffered an agonising death beyond imagination.

The two men put the body on the pool table we had just been playing on.

"You can take that stupid necklace off now Red." Gambol laughed nastily. "Check he's dead."

I couldn't move.

"I said." Gambol continued, pulling me over to the bag as I tried to squirm away. "Check the body."

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes were sore with the furious need to cry. I pulled the bag back slowly, revealing the Joker's motionless face. I looked away. I couldn't bear to see it.

"Check his pulse." Gambol demanded.

I whimpered with loathing as my hand pressed against his cold face. But it wasn't cold. It was warm.

My hand moved down to his neck and I could feel the soft thump of a pulse that seemed to save me. Tears fell down my cheeks from relief and I backed away from the Joker. Gambol looked at me expectantly.

"He's dead." I whispered, my voice thick with the emotion that had previously been there. Gambol smiled cruelly.

"Dead? That's five-hundred –"

The Joker stood up quickly dragging a knife up the stomachs of the men that had carried him in at the same time. So quickly that they had barely made a sound.

"How about alive? Hmm?" The Joker asked and Gambol spun around too late. The Joker had already caught hold of his neck and pressed a knife against the corner of his lips. I wiped the tears away quickly before the Joker could see. The concentration on his face was almost erotic and I watched him in sadistic awe. The people that had supposedly killed him grabbed Gambol's men and pushed them to the ground, holding guns against their heads. The Joker must have told them I wasn't a threat.

"Red…" Gambol began but my answering laugh told him everything he needed to know. I was going to watch this and I was going to enjoy it.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" The Joker nodded and licked his lips. "My father was… a drinker. And a fiend. And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself.

"He doesn't like that. No**t**. O**ne**. Bi**t**. So… Me watching… he takes the knife to her. Laughing while he does it. He turns to me," The Joker said, laughing and shaking his head, "And he says 'Why so serious son?' He comes at me with the knife – 'Why so serious son?'

"He sticks the blade in my mouth" He said, his eyes darting over Gambol's face like mine were, savouring the emotions. "'Let's put a smile on that fa**ce**.' And…" He looked at Gambol's favourite guy who was staring back at him in terror. "Why so serious?"

He sliced through Gambol's cheek right up to his ear and Gambol dropped to the floor. He was finally dead. The Joker pulled the bag off his body and picked up the pool cue I had just been using. He walked around the table, looking around the room.

"Now, our operation is small but there's a lot of room for… _aggressive_ expansion. So, which one of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team? Oh, and there's only one spot open right now so we're going to have… _tryouts_." He said, splitting the cue in half with ease and admiring the point of one of the broken ends. He threw it to the floor and left the room. "Make it fast."

He hadn't looked at me the whole time and the way he'd phrased it made him clear that I wasn't one of the people trying out.

The men were thrust to the floor and looked at each other. Guns were still pointing at their heads. After a few moments it was clear that none of them had the guts to kill the other. The blonde one aimed his gun at me and said, "They aren't going to do it."

"What?"

"Spin. They won't fight each other."

"Spin?"

"The cue!" He shouted. "He wants you to spin the cue."

Not having any idea what they were talking about I spun the cue. It landed on Gambol's favourite guy. The guy that had been holding him down put his gun to the back of his head and fired it.

"Spin it again." The man ordered and I realised it was a strange form of Russian roulette.

I spun it, purposely making it land on the guy who had insulted me in all those meetings and accused me of working with Batman. He received a bullet through his head and I saw the light dim from his eyes as he fell forward. The Joker's men pulled up the last man that I recognised as Cura and led him out of the room. The blonde guy wrapped an arm around my waist and led me out. I looked at him in disgust but for some reason he didn't get the hint and he pushed me into the back of a van outside. The only people in the back of the van were the Joker's men, Cura and the Joker himself.

"The boss says we're keeping you." The blonde guy snorted with laughter. His hand rested far up on my leg. "Aren't you the lucky one?"

I saw the Joker turn to look at him out of the corner of my eye but I had already grabbed the man's head and slammed it into the back of the van, knocking him unconscious. The Joker laughed mockingly towards his worker and I pushed his slumped body onto the floor so I could take his seat.

As though to prove a point, the Joker sat down and pulled me onto his knee, placing his hand on the exact spot the other man had. The men he had hired smirked to each other and the Joker whispered in my ear.

"I hope you _enjoyed_ watching Gambol die."

"Thanks." I replied with a grin. "I'm glad you dragged it out."

Cura looked at me disbelievingly. "The mob…"

"I'm loyal to the mob but not to Gambol and you know why." I replied angrily.

"You don't look very loyal at the moment." He added disgustedly.

"Is something… Uh, bothering you?" The Joker asked, a hidden threat lining his voice.

Cura shook his head reluctantly and looked away. The Joker exhaled, satisfied with the response and moved his gloved hand absentmindedly up and down my leg. I blushed heavily and heard the men next to me grunt boisterously.

I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. He turned back to look at me with the same glint in his eye from last night and I knew that he was. I tried to get off him but he held me in place, staring at the emotions on my face. I looked away.

The man on the floor stirred and I aimed a kick at his back. He coughed and opened his eyes. It took him a few seconds to realise what had happened and then he sat on a spare seat, frowning with embarrassment.

"Stupid whore." I heard him mutter.

I tried to jump up but the Joker restrained me and held me tightly against him, both of my wrists locked in his hands. "Hey. Hey… Shh." He whispered as I tried to break from his surprisingly strong grip.

"Fucking psycho." The man muttered as he stepped out of the van that had come to a stop, followed by the rest of the men. The Joker looked up at me, with his eyebrows raised. I blushed and tried to stand up but he pulled my wrists tighter, making me shout out with pain. My body was pressed tightly against his and I could feel his breath against my sore neck. He smacked his lips together as though he were going to say something but in the next second he let go of my wrists and pulled me out of the van.

I had no idea where we were but the double doors were locked with a padlock that was full of rust. The Joker pushed me over to it and told me to open it. I knew he could do it himself but I wondered if he was seeing how well I could break into things.

I pulled a bobby pin from my hair and got my knife from my purse. I pushed the bobby pin into the lock and changed the position of it until I could twist the knife all the way around and unlock it.

The padlock came undone and flakes of rust covered my hands as I pulled it off and tossed it aside. The Joker pushed the doors open.

It looked like a burned down strip-club. I noticed the blackened poles and burnt carpet and realised it was. The Joker's men muttered something upon seeing the poles and I didn't want to know what it was. The only person not staring at the poles was Cura, who was looking around anxiously. I smirked as I stepped onto the stage and stroked the metal poles, looking at the soot on my hand. I imagined what it would be like to spin from them really fast using only my legs.

I decided it might be quite fun to invest in a pole. When I noticed the blonde man leer at me and the others waiting to see if I was going to do anything I immediately moved away and sat on the floor next to the poles and waited to see why I was here.

The Joker walked over to the bar to see if any of the alcohol had survived but by the shattered glass all over the floor it was obvious none had. He stood against the wall at the bottom of the stage where everyone could see him and began to speak.

"Batman is going to… bring Lau back." The Joker nodded. "What I want to do… is before the _trial_, I want to… kill Harvey Den**t**."

"How?" Cura asked incredulously.

"Bruce Wayne is planning on holding… a… fund raiser for Harvey. It'll take place _before_ the trial. I want you three," He said, pointing to two of his original men and me, "On crowd control. You two, I want somewhere else in the house to stall the police or _stop_ anyone from escaping."

"But Batman will show." Cura began. The Joker cut him off.

"Of course."

"What do we do if the Batman comes?"

"Attack him." The Joker said and everyone besides him looked at me. I wondered if I _was_ being used but not because of the mob… because of my skill. I wondered if that even mattered to me anymore.

I knew that I was no good to sticking to my promises when it came to the men I liked but I wouldn't allow myself to be used. Mainly because my mom and dad had instilled such as sense of responsibility in me and made sure my emotions didn't rule me. I was scared of letting them down, strange because I knew I would never see them again and they didn't own a phone so that they couldn't be traced.

So for that reason if he tried to use me I would make him suffer. That is why I smirked back at the men that were staring at me as though realising why I was here for the first time. I knew that even if the Joker had a degree of control over me when it came to my feelings, he didn't when it came to my job.

The blonde guy spoke. "Is that why she's here?"

"Yes, that's why I'm here." I answered before anyone else could. "Because I'm better at fighting than all of you put together and you wouldn't stand a chance."

The Joker looked at me in wonder for a moment with his head tilted to the side and his eyes slightly narrowed. He traced his lips slowly with his tongue before turning back to the others.

"If I tell you to do something I want you to _do_ it. If you don't you will suffer. I mean i**t**." He nodded and they agreed nervously, although none were as nervous as Cura. "This will take place… in… a few days. So, I want to know where all of you are and I want your cell phone numbers."

He tossed a note pad and pen towards Cura and he wrote his number down and passed it along. The Joker checked his watched and looked outside. I wondered what he was thinking.

When it reached the blonde guy he passed it to me first. I wondered if it was because he wanted to see what my number was so I took it hesitantly. I considered writing a fake number when the Joker told me he already had my number.

I knew I hadn't given it to him and I didn't have his so I found this fact slightly irritating as I passed the notepad back to the blonde guy.

How did he have my number? I supposed he could have easily found it when he snuck into my house to leave the joker card but something else was bothering me… How had he known which club I was going to?

Perhaps the thing that bothered me most was how little I knew about him. I looked up at him and his gaze met mine and silently I decided I wanted to know more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning:** **Mature Content**

* * *

That night passed quickly.

I took out my sticky pads and started to write notes on the Joker to see if I could fit anything together. The first things were obvious _genius_ and _beautiful_. Then I got stuck. So I decided to make a list of all the things he'd done.

_Broke into my house_

_Knew about my notes in the garage_

_Knew I arrived before Batman_

_Has a set of my keys_

_Has my number_

_Knew I which club I was going to_

_Knows when the mob's meetings are_

Firstly, I decided he would be good at picking locks so the fact he broke into my house wasn't such a big deal.

He knew I had arrived before Batman, where I lived and about my notes in the garage. For the first two I decided he might have seen me go into Falcone's bar on my first night or had seen me fight Falcone's thug or knock the driver out. Either that or he knew about me joining the mob before I had my first job. This would have made it easier for him to find out where I lived because everyone knew about Falcone's bar – he would only have had to have someone see where I went after I left.

As for knowing about my notes, perhaps he had already broken in to try and find out more about me or maybe he found me a very easy person to guess and just knew that I'd want to keep track of everyone to feel as though I had the upper hand. Maybe he wrote notes of his own and recognised the signs. If he didn't already know a lot about me then he would have done after finding the notes.

The last two points it took me longer to figure out. At first, I could only come up with the idea that he had someone in the mob working for him but that wouldn't answer how he knew about the club. I flipped my phone over in my hands subconsciously as I thought, then stopped and stared at it.

Batman arrived on my second night here, the night of my first job. The Joker must've known about me on the first night when I stole my phone. I didn't give anyone my number until the second night which meant that the Joker would have had time to switch phones, leaving me with a number he already knew and a bugged phone which enabled him to hear everything I said. It wouldn't surprise me if he had bugged a few people's phones in the mob. Whatever he was planning he must have been planning for months.

Still, all I found out was how intelligent he was and how much he knew about me. I still knew nothing about him. I couldn't go sneaking into his house – it was too well protected and I didn't doubt that he had his guard up all the time anyway. So a few hours after starting I gave up.

Instead I tried to figure out what he thought when he went silent and cold. Probably that I was more trouble than I was worth but regardless I came no closer to figuring this out than I had anything else.

I gave up and fell asleep. When I did, the Joker made a star appearance in my dreams…

_I was strapped to a kitchen chair. The Joker was playing some weird form of sex game with me. He took his knife and carved my cheeks, quickly sewing each one shut before I lost too much blood. Every scar he had on his body he mirrored on mine, each cut becoming deeper and deeper until finally he got carried away and I woke up just before I died._

I panted, tears streaming down my face as I felt my cheeks to make sure it wasn't real. I realised that a text message had woken me up – just in time – from my strange nightmare.

I read it shakily, still slightly disturbed from my dream. It was from the Chechen. _Red, we're going out for a meal today at Maroni's restaurant. 12 p.m. Don't be late._

I vaguely wondered if the Joker could read my messages as well as hear my calls while I was in the shower. I decided that he probably couldn't because it was more likely he had planted a microphone inside the phone. I wouldn't know how it was possible for him to see my texts too although I couldn't be sure. I could have taken the microphone out but I had no idea what it would even look like, or how to do it without destroying the phone. If I was able to I probably wouldn't have anyway.

I was running late so I put on the first thing I picked up which was a pair of shorts and a long tube top. I would have loved to wear skirts but it wasn't such a good idea while riding a bike and even when I wasn't taking my bike, I never knew when I'd need to make a quick escape so skirts weren't really ideal. I hesitated before putting on the necklace the Joker had given me.

I walked into the restaurant slightly late – they all had their meals and I wasn't hungry so I just ordered a diet coke and sat next to them.

"They've got Lau." The Chechen told me and pointed to the television.

Harvey Dent's sickly sweet face was on the screen. "Well, I don't know about Mr. Lau's travel arrangements, but I'm sure glad he's back."

"Give word out: we hire the clown. He was right, we have to fix real problem. Batman."

But I wasn't listening. My mind was running extremely fast – back to when my father taught me law. We had all pooled our money together and that meant…

"We need to go." I told Maroni and the Chechen in a low voice. It was too late, I spotted the police cars outside. "Run!"

I stood up and moved swiftly into the ladies toilets, trying to figure a way out. There was a small window but thanks to my tiny frame I might just be able to fit through.

Before I had the chance to test my theory, the door to the toilet began to open and I hid behind it. A police officer was checking the toilets. I only had one chance at this and I couldn't risk him making a noise so I undid the clasp on the chain the Joker had given me and crept up behind him.

In one sleek movement I had wrapped the chain tightly around his neck and pulled hard so that he was unable to make a noise. I was worried someone would come in to see where he had got to so I pulled the chain with all my strength. He turned a dark shade of purple and spluttered, trying desperately to loosen the chain but my grip was far too strong for his deteriorating strength. He died in seconds.

I covered my fist in toilet roll before smashing the small window and pulling off the jagged edges of glass. I had made far too much noise but that didn't matter because I was already half way through.

I ignored my skin tearing at the pieces of glass that were too small to get rid off and forced myself through the small hole until I fell outside. I attached the chain back around my neck and ran fast. The cuts, although there were many, were only shallow scrapes that didn't bother me.

Finally, I stopped somewhere in town and entered a small café, keeping my face hidden by my hair. I sat there for two hours with a cold cup of tea in front of me. I knew they would be in court by now – not permanently. Not yet. Still, it meant it would be safe for me to leave. I left the shop and began to walk back home when something caught my eye. There was a television shop across the road from the café and five different televisions were connected to GCN. Each one showed Batman being brought down from a tall building with a noose around his neck. I ran across the street to see the news and a crowd surrounded me, fearing that Batman had killed himself.

On closer inspection I could see that the man had the Joker's face paint surrounding his mouth.

"Sensitive viewers please be aware, the image is disturbing." The news reporter said and the scene changed to a video.

It was set in what looked like an abattoir, with a man dressed as Batman but clearly _not_ Batman tied to a chair.

"Tell them your name." I gasped. It was the Joker's voice. Other people around me gasped too but instead of excitement they felt horror.

"Brian Douglas." The man replied, and the fear in his voice was obvious – even though he was trying to be brave. The Joker giggled.

"Are you the real Batman?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"No? Then why do you dress up like him?" The Joker growled, grabbing the man's mask and waving it around, laughing. "Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo."

"He's a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." Brian said, although he couldn't meet the Joker's eyes.

"Yeah… You do Brian. You really do. Hmm? Yeah…" He replied, grabbing Brian's hair so that he had no choice to look at him. Then he let go and hushed the man, slapping his face. "So you think Batman's made Gotham a better place?"

Brian couldn't answer. "Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

The camera paused for a moment on Brian before the Joker turned it around to his face. I grinned but other people let out screams and a child began to cry.

"You see this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want _order_ in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh and every day he doesn't people _will_ die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my wor**d**." He said, then laughed loudly and all you could hear were Brian's screams as the Joker turned the camera off.

People scattered away from the televisions quickly, some taking their children home and others presumably trying to find loved ones. I turned and ran too but not to anyone in particular – I just wanted to go home so I could think logically about what had happened.

But I didn't make it home because after ten minutes of running my phone rang with an unknown number. I answered it warily – worried the police had traced it.

"Hello?" I panted, exhausted from running.

"You didn't get caugh**t**." The Joker stated. His voice caught me off guard and I moved into a nearby alleyway to get away from the publics' eyes.

"No." I replied, then the question came from my lips before I could think about it – the extra confidence coming from not being able to see his face. "Did you know the police were coming after us?"

"I didn't know where you were." He replied. He didn't elaborate on whether it would have made a difference if he had of known. Normally, I wouldn't have asked but I did.

"Would things have been different if you'd known I was with the mob?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, although I was sure he just wanted a more specific question.

"Would you have warned me?" As soon as I had asked it I wondered if it was a mistake. The tone of my voice made it clear that I wasn't sure if I could trust him.

He smacked his lips together. "Come to mine and bring your outfit."

I began to reply but he'd already hung up.

I let myself catch my breath for a moment and then began to run again. It took me twenty minutes to reach my house and the first thing I did was jump in the shower so I could wash away the blood on my body and any shards of glass that had stuck to me.

I quickly curled my hair and put on my outfit. I put my chain in my purse – I loved the way I could use it to strangle people now and I had become quite attached to it as a weapon.

I drove my bike there so I'd be faster and I reached his house in fifteen minutes. The door was left open for me so I walked straight in when I arrived.

The Joker was stood without his jackets on so that the top layer of his outfit was his green waistcoat. His muscles were prominent through the tight sleeves of his shirt, proving that he was less lanky than he looked with his jackets on.

He grinned at me as I came in and his eyes looked me up and down. His tongue darted across his lips as he caught my wrist and pulled me onto the sofa without a word.

"We're going to a… fancy dress party." He smirked.

"Okay…" I replied confused as I pulled my hood down and unfastened my cloak. I moved over to set it down on the floor and by the time I turned back he had pulled my hair off my face and used his knee to keep me sitting down.

I opened my mouth to speak but quickly closed it when I felt him spreading something on my face.

"What are you doing?" I shouted, but he had a tight grip on my hair so I couldn't move my face away.

"We're going as clowns." He laughed as he spread the white paint over my nose. I cringed.

"Don't do that, you'll crack the paint!" He complained and his breath tickled my face. I sat still. Whether it was to make the process easier or because I had suddenly notice how close he was to me I didn't know. Perhaps I just liked the feeling of him touching my face.

He stared in concentration without really seeing me. He wiped his hand on a black towel that now had a huge white blotch on and got a small brush out before covering it with black paint.

He painted my left eye first. From just above my eyebrow to the top of my cheek he painted a fairly thick black line. He finished that eye by adding a small tick in the corner, like cats eyes. On the other eye he carefully traced my lash line and at the bottom of my eye made a stretched v shape that he painted, as though the black paint were pouring from my eye. At the point where the 'v' ended he put a dot underneath and completed it with another tick in the corner of my eye.

In between my eyebrows, where my nose met my forehead he painted a thin cross where the horizontal line was slightly lower than the centre. He finished my look completely by painting my lips bright red.

"Let me see." I demanded and he moved off me so I could run up to the bathroom. I looked terrifying but I loved it. Somehow, it suited me. In the same way that the Joker should look ugly but looked amazing, I looked good.

"Do you like it?" The Joker asked, coming up behind me.

"It's amazing." I smiled. No matter how I smiled it looked evil. The Joker grinned back. We looked so odd next to each other. "People will think we're in love." I joked.

He stared hard at our reflection, deep in thought. "It's a joke." I muttered, purposely licking my lips like he did.

He turned to me and seemed stuck between wanting to smile and wanting to leave. "Very funny." He replied dryly.

He held onto my wrist and pulled me down the stairs behind him. I noticed that he always grabbed my wrist instead of my hand. Something so small but it signified a lot. Like the difference between him and Jon.

I didn't want to think of that.

He locked his house after I pulled the hood of my cloak back up and made sure I had my purse. I checked inside to make sure I had my chain and knife. We walked down to the hill at the bottom of the forest and stopped by the abandoned warehouse. I shivered. The sun had gone down and there was a cold breeze in the air. I pulled my cloak further around me and a few seconds later a white van that I recognised pulled to a stop and the back doors opened. The Joker jumped in the back and I followed, inside were some more men that weren't there last time.

Cura looked at me in utter shock. The blonde guy was staring too, apparently torn between lust and confusion. It was too cramped to sit down but I kept my balance better than any of the others. The Joker handed out some masks and some people were already wearing stockings on their heads with clown paint over the top.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the trust fund." The blonde guy replied, moving towards me. I frowned but there was no room to move away so I just stood there.

I put the string from my purse over my head and across one shoulder so I knew it wouldn't fall off and I'd be able to reach it quickly. My heart skipped frantically when it dawned on me what was going on.

We were going to kill Harvey Dent. Batman would show up. There would be over a hundred people inside. I bit my lip as I grinned and Cura looked away from me nervously. I must have looked terrifying. When the van came to a halt I was one of the first to jump out. At the door we met a detective that I recognised as Wuertz. The Joker handed him a bomb and he looked away guiltily, leading the way inside.

We stepped into an elevator as and a few men got off on lower floors to stall other people. The Joker saw how excited I was and smirked. I could see the excitement in his eyes too.

The elevator opened at our floor and the Joker pushed Wuertz out, shouting, "We made it!"

The Joker fired a warning shot and everyone backed as far as they could against the walls. This left a huge gap for us in the middle.

I knew how important it was to whatever the Joker was planning that he led this and I didn't mind. I had no plans to do anything like this anyway.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." He began, walking towards the centre of the space the crowd had left. He picked up one of the snacks and bit a cherry off it. "We are… tonight's entertainment."

Some other men on crowd control with me pushed a man to the floor, apparently just to look as though they were doing something. I hung back with them, keeping an eye on everyone else.

"I only have one question. Where is Harvey Dent?" There was silence as me and the other guys walked further forward to keep up. The Joker decided to change his tact as he singled out different people, slapping them and asking them if they knew where Harvey was. He stole someone's glass of champagne and with his elaborate movement managed to throw the entire contents onto the floor before attempting to drink it. I couldn't help giggling.

"Do you know where I can find Harvey? I need to talk to him, just about something little. Hmm?" He asked as he grabbed a man's head and moved it around. "No…" The Joker said sarcastically as the man tried to pretend the he wasn't there.

He put another cherry into his mouth as he moved over to someone else. "You know, I'll settle for his loved ones."

"We're not intimidated by thugs." The man replied boldly. I hissed. The Joker slammed the glass back down on the table and stared at the man as though he hadn't quite heard what he had said.

"You know… You remind me of my father." The Joker nodded, grabbing the man by the neck and pressing his knife against the man's mouth. "I hated my father."

I had no time to ponder these words because a woman I recognised as Harvey's girlfriend stood out from the crowd. "Okay, stop."

The Joker turned to look at her and his eyes widened. "Well hello beautiful." He said, walking towards her and smoothing his hair.

_He's doing it for a reason. He's doing it on purpose. _I chanted in my head. _He's just doing it to annoy Harvey and get him to protect Rachel. That's all._

I repeated these words of comfort in my head and the Joker continued to talk. "You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you are beautiful." He said, drawing himself up to his full height and circling her. He didn't make it any easier by repeating this.

I told myself not to do anything as I tried to keep calm. The Joker wasn't mine.

_If you'd known he was just playing games with you, would you still have let him have sex with you down that alley?_

I didn't know the answer but what I did know was that he'd followed me to the club, killed the person I was dancing with and put on his shirt so he could dance with me himself. Why would he do that if… If what?

It was too realistic for me to satisfy the words I was chanting in my head. The voice he used when he called her beautiful had become low and filled with lust. I recognised the look in his eyes as he stared at her. I told myself that he was just really good at acting but if that was the case then had he been acting with me? I decided furiously that I wouldn't let him have me ever again, choosing to ignore the fact that I could never stick to my own promises.

"You look nervous. Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got them? Come here. Hey, look at me." He said as he grabbed her hair and held his knife up to her. I gripped my fists and focused on the crowd. His voice matched the way he had told me to look at him.

I noticed the men he had hired were looking at me for my reaction and whatever they saw confirmed what they were thinking. I couldn't imagine how vicious the look of wrath etched on my face would be but it must have been bad because as I looked at the blonde guy to take my mind off the Joker, he flinched away. The scary paint must have accentuated my ferocity.

"So I had a wife who was _beautiful_. Like you." I felt my nails dig through my own skin as I tried to breathe evenly. I wasn't sure whether looking away helped or not. "Who tells me… I worry too much. Who tells me I ought to smile more. Who gambles and gets in deep. With the Sharks. Hey… One day they carve her face. We have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars! So… I stick a razor in my mouth and do this… to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me. She leaves…"

I turned back to look at him. His face was close to hers, his eyes trained softly on her face. If I looked at him I could focus the hatred I felt for the situation and turn it into hatred for him. It was easier.

"Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!" He said, raising his arm. She took advantage of this to knee him hard and he made an "oomph" noise as he backed away slightly. He laughed and was back on his feet in seconds.

"A little fight in you." He said, walking back over to her and reaching for her hair. "I like that."

Luckily, Batman interrupted to save me from the scenario. "Then you're gonna love me."

All the Joker's men ran towards Batman. I didn't know what to do. Every fibre in my body was screaming that I didn't want to help the Joker. I could turn and leave right now and I'd be free.

At the same time I wanted to join in.

I think some pathetic part of me didn't want to let him down. I moved forward slowly and realised Batman was wearing a new suit. He could move faster in it, but that also meant he would be weakened. Momentarily forgetting about the Joker and Rachel, I ran forward with my knife gripped tightly in my hand and slashed at Batman's arm.

He tossed me aside roughly but instead of falling I did a back-flip and landed quickly back on my feet so I could run at him again. My knife had sliced through his armour! One of the Joker's men grabbed him and pinned him back but he had a pathetic hold on him and the Joker only managed to get one kick in with a knife on the end of his shoe before I heard the cracking sound of the man's broken arm as Batman flipped him over and pushed the Joker down.

Batman turned back towards me and I got ready to hit him again with my knife when we both heard the click of the safety being taken off a gun and turned to see where the noise had come from. The Joker had hold of Rachel and had a gun in his hands.

Batman had forgotten about me and I let him. I didn't care anymore.

"Drop the gun." Batman demanded in his low, growly voice.

"Sure, you just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are." The Joker replied and I thought I saw Rachel shake her head as she clung onto the Joker's arm. Without waiting for a reply, the Joker fired the gun behind him, shattering the glass. He grabbed onto Rachel's arm and held her out of the window.

"Let her go." Batman ordered. Despite myself I snorted with laughter and the Joker looked at Batman as though he were unsure he had just told him to do that.

"Very poor choice of words." The Joker laughed as he dropped her.

Instantly Batman had thrown the Joker aside and dived out of the window after her.

"Let's go." The Joker called and his men ran for the elevator. The Joker grabbed my wrist but I pulled it away violently as though his touch had burned me and ran towards the elevator with the rest of them.

When we were inside the Joker laughed with exhilaration and his men looked relieved to be out alive. It took every ounce of self control I had learnt from my mother's lessons to pull this off.

"Wow, you were amazing." I grinned, looking at the blonde guy.

"Me?" He asked, uncertainly.

"Yeah!" I replied, looking at him in awe. He looked quite flattered. I could feel the Joker's calculating gaze on my face but I ignored it determinedly.

"I didn't know you could fight like that. It was really… impressive." I said, with a sultry smile and turned my whole body towards him – making it clear I was ignoring the Joker as though he weren't there.

"Well I've been going to the gym every day since I joined up." He told me, his grin more confident as he placed his hand gingerly around my waist. I felt revolted and I knew I should stop but a stubborn voice told me not to.

_Why should you? If he can play games with Rachel then you can play games with whoever this guy is._

_Yeah, except he was doing it for a reason and you're doing it because you got jealous._

_Bullshit! I saw the way he fucking looked at her and heard the way he spoke and that wasn't fake._

_Well, even if it wasn't, yours _is_ fake so that excuse doesn't make it better either._

I stopped arguing in my head at this point because I almost talked myself out of it. Instead I put my hand over his and pulled it further around me as we walked into the van. I risked taking a glance at the Joker and when I saw his face I felt sick with fear. I had never seen such a venomous look before in my life.

My hand wavered over the blonde guy's – unsure as to whether I should stop.

_I bet his expression is the same as yours was when he was doing it and he didn't stop for you._

_But he was doing it for a reason._

_No he wasn't!_

_Well, he's entitled to flirt with who he likes._

_AND SO AM I!_ I yelled back in my head triumphantly. I had found a reason that made it okay so I left the guy's hand where it was.

There was enough room to sit in the van because the people that got knocked out had been left behind so I sat on the blonde guy's knee.

_But if it was fake then you shouldn't flirt with other people… _The voice replied but I ignored it. I didn't want to be reasonable.

"So, I saw Batman coming at me but I was too quick for him and I caught him in the jaw." The guy bragged. I had a strong urge to roll my eyes because he was incredibly incompetent when it came to fighting and the only reason he got a punch in was because Batman was fighting two other men at the time.

"Yeah I know, I saw." I giggled, in a girly way. His eyes widened as he stared at my boobs which he had just noticed were level with his face.

There were several loud bangs and his head dropped onto my chest. I screeched and pushed him off me. He fell to the floor and as blood poured out of his chest I realised he was dead. I looked up at the Joker who was glaring back at me, a gun in his hand.

"Stop the va**n**." He uttered. His voice sounded dangerous but it was nothing compared to the glint in his eye which was deadly.

Everyone got the message and left, including the driver who began calling a taxi.

The Joker held his fierce gaze for a moment, before jumping out and locking me in the back with the dead body. I heard another door slam and saw him get into the driver's seat. He set off so fast that I was thrown into the side. He didn't laugh or look up. He just remained frighteningly silent. I didn't want to know what he was thinking.

_Well, that was a stupid idea._ I told myself in my head, trying to make light of the situation. It didn't work and I bit my thumb nervously. No paint came off, it had stained my face now.

We arrived back at his too soon. I decided to fight back if he was going to attack me but he'd probably just kick me out. I saw my bike propped up in his drive and wondered if he was going to say anything before making me leave or if he'd remain silent.

The back of the van opened seconds after he had turned the engine off. Part of me wanted to cower away but my upbringing forbade it. I bit my lip nervously as he came towards me.

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me out of the van. I screamed in pain. He pulled me past my bike and jammed his thumb against the sensor pad before leading me up the stairs.

"Get off!" I screeched but he ignored me and pulled me into his bedroom.

He kicked the door shut behind him and slammed me into it so roughly I thought I heard the wood crack.

"What were you doing? Hmm?"

I felt embarrassed by myself and tried to cover it up by aiming a kick in his direction. For that I received a brutally hard slap around my face. The skin turned hot and tingled and, for some unknown reason, turned me on.

"Tell me what was going through your hea**d**." He demanded roughly. I frowned in silent protest as his eyes darted over my face.

He pulled me from the door and twisted my arm behind my back painfully, pushing it almost to breaking point. I yelled out.

"What did you want to do? Hmm?" He asked as he pushed my over to the bed and bent me over it.

"Stop it." I growled.

"Then answer me." He shouted back in a low voice. I remained silent. His hand slammed down against my ass so hard I screamed. I looked back at him but the fury hadn't gone from his face and he slammed his hand down on me again, enjoying it as I flinched painfully.

He did it again, even harder. "I'm sorry!"

He smacked me harder still and pinned my arm further up. "Don't apologize to me."

"I didn't think you'd care!" I yelled, the pain becoming hard to bear – he was slowly breaking my arm.

He kept hold of my arm but grabbed my hair again and yanked me up to push me against the wall. He pressed his mouth very close to my ear and spoke in a deadly voice. "You are _mine_ now. Forever."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the light bounce off a switchblade. Aiming properly now, I kicked him hard in the stomach and was thankful when he let go of my arm. I dodged past him and grabbed my blade from my purse but he recovered faster than I had thought he would and threw me into the other wall. The hand holding my knife was pinned high above my head and his switchblade was pressed against my lips.

"Give it to me." He ordered, his knife now at the corner of my mouth. I dropped the knife into his hand. He smirked as he put it in his pocket. My free hand routed through my purse to find anything else I could use but he pulled it away from me and threw it to the other side of the room. I stared at it hopelessly before pulling my gaze back to him. He smiled evilly at me as he looked down at me. His eyes mocked me for being so unarmed and unable to defend myself.

With his blade in the corner of my mouth I didn't dare do anything in case he slipped. His anger had faded and now he was looking at me with sinful amusement.

"Now what are you going to do?"

I scowled up at him.

"Do you want to know… why you do everything I say?" He asked, tracing my lips with his blade. "It's because… you _want_ to belong to me. Because I can give you something that no one else can." He nodded, grinning wickedly. "Do you want me to show you?"

He returned his blade to his pocket and pulled my dress off me as he pushed me onto the bed. He took his jackets off and climbed on top of me. His lips started at my neck and moved lightly down my body until I shivered. He brought his lips back up to my cleavage and sucked hard on it because there was no room left on my neck.

I gasped with pleasure and tangled my fingers in his hair. He spread my thighs apart and I heard him unzip his trousers.

It was a shock when he stretched my entrance and his name escaped my lips as a groan. He licked his lips and pushed himself all the way and caused me to yell. His fingernails dugs into my waist and I felt them pierce my skin – something I think he was aiming to do.

He pushed inside me and he laughed as I gasped for him not to stop. He had made me dizzy already and I felt too hot. The corner of his mouth twitched in anticipation as he watched my face and I moaned loudly in orgasm.

He pulled out of me and forced me off the bed into a kneeling position. "Come here." He said as he grabbed me by the hair and pushed himself into my open mouth.

I hadn't done this before but it came naturally. I placed my hand around his shaft and looked into his eyes as he forced my head against him, thrusting himself into my throat and making me gag. I moaned as I swirled my tongue around him and moved my hand towards my clit.

His eyes widened slightly as he watched, reminding me of Rachel and bringing back some of my anger from before so I dragged my teeth lightly over his shaft without really meaning to as I pulled it in and out of my mouth. He let out a low noise from feeling the edge of my teeth against him and pushed himself harder until he came in the back of my throat. I swallowed it, licking him clean.

I moved to put my dress back on and slipped it quickly over my head.

"It's getting late." He prompted with a grin. I smiled back as he handed me my knife and I grabbed my purse off the floor. I walked downstairs and he followed me with a knowing smile. I opened the door but he was looking me as though expecting me to say something. Confused, I moved out of the door but something held me back. I realised I did want to say something.

I turned around to face him and he raised his eyebrows innocently, as though he didn't know what I was going to ask.

"Why can't I just spend the night?"

"Here?" He asked, still feigning innocence. I blushed although it probably wasn't visible under the paint.

"Yes." I replied, hating jumping through his hoops. I felt like I really did belong to him.

He looked shocked at the request, then licked his lips and moved aside for me to come back inside.

"You've still got my shir**t**." He noted, tilting his head to one side.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll have nothing to… uh… _sleep_ in."

I paused. "Get me a drink." I said in reply, causing him to laugh as he went to grab something strong and alcoholic from the kitchen. I took my shoes off to massage my feet as I wondered what was happening to me… or what I was allowing to happen.

My phone buzzed urgently in my purse and I reached for it, putting it on loudspeaker for the Joker's benefit – and in case he needed to help me out with any answers.

"Red, what are you doing?" The Chechen asked, disapproval colouring his tone.

"What do you mean?" I asked. The Joker had returned with drinks and came to sit next to me.

"I saw you on the news. Dressed as a clown."

"You're mine now." The Joker muttered in my ear as a reminder. I took a deep breath and tried not to let him realise how hard this was for me. The Chechen was like a father and meant the world to me.

"The Joker did it. Did you like it?"

"What are you doing with him?"

"You knew I was with him." I replied, my voice diminishing to a dull tone.

"There's being with him and then there's working for him."

"I want my money back as much as you do." I lied. "And he can get it for us. If you can think of a better way to get Lau out of jail then let me know."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "I trust you, Red. Be careful."

"They won't go through with the court case." The Joker replied after the Chechen hung up.

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because… while we were getting Harvey… the police commissioner had been poisoned and the judge had been blown up." He grinned.

"Really?" I asked surprised. He nodded. "You've got it all planned out, don't you?"

He checked his watch. "I've got some work to do. You can go to bed now."

It was an order and not a request so I sipped the last of my drink and went to lie in his bed in just my underwear. I stayed awake for as long as I could but he never came in and an hour later I fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

I felt guilty towards the Chechen so that morning I packed some stuff into a bag and arranged to stay at his for a few nights.

I arrived at his in the afternoon and he took me out for a meal. That night, the Joker made the news.

The Chechen turned the volume up.

"_Two cops have been murdered by the Joker. The men have been named Richard Dent and Patrick Harvey. Once again, he seems to be targeting Harvey Dent. However, this is not his immediate target. His target for tomorrow is no other than Mayor Anthony Garcia. The mayor will be holding a street ceremony tomorrow to pay respects to the late Police Commissioner who has also been murdered by the Joker._

_Police are urging the people that want to show their respects to Commissioner Loeb to leave children at home with a family member although they will be taking every precaution possible to ensure the safety of the mayor and the citizens of Gotham."_

I didn't get in touch with the Joker and he didn't get in touch with me. Out of respect I didn't mention his name and made sure that the Chechen was having a good time. We both got very drunk that evening and swapped stories of our favourite jobs and what we liked about the mob. He told me how he got to the top and how Maroni became his best friend.

It was nice to be able to have a normal conversation with him, get drunk and laugh about insignificant things. It was a refreshing change from treading on eggshells with the Joker and watching what I said in front of Charlotte. I slept on his sofa that night and although I was comfortable, I was restless.

I wondered what would happen to the mayor tomorrow. I was jealous that the Joker got to have all the fun but the Chechen had to go on a job and he invited me along. I wasn't reluctant when I agreed because we hadn't done a job together in ages and whereas with the Joker I had to let him lead, with the Chechen we worked together and looked out for each other.

So while the procession was being held for Loeb, I had my knife against the throat of a drug addict that owed the Chechen a lot of money. What with Lau in police custody, the Chechen needed all the money that was owed to him more than ever so he could pay the bail. We marched the man to the nearest cash point where we made him empty the contents of all his accounts as well as his wallet. Even with all that he hadn't paid the debt in full but if we killed him we'd never get it back so I let him go with a severe warning and deadline to meet.

That night I returned to the Chechen's and he put the news channel back on, to find out what had happened today.

"_-Lieutenant Jim Gordon was killed when jumping in front of a bullet aimed for the mayor. One of the Joker's men was caught. We have word that he was a former patient at Arkham Asylum twice and his name is Schiff, Thomas. When he was caught the name badge attached to his uniform was named 'Rachel Dawes', known girlfriend of Harvey Dent and dedicated to fighting corruption. This is tomorrow's target._

"_Harvey Dent will be holding a press conference tomorrow to discuss the action they are taking against the Joker and –"_

The Chechen turned the TV off when he received a phone call.

"Hello?" I looked at him for any hint of what was happening. He listened silently and then hung up. I waited for answers.

"Maroni is in hospital with a broken leg. Batman threw him off a building to try and get answers about the Joker." He said, rubbing his beard nervously. "We need to get rid of Batman."

"I can't do what the Joker does." I admitted. "He guesses what people's reactions are going to be before anything has even happened. It's how he can plan ahead; he knows what people will do. I can't do that."

He nodded slowly. "Maroni doesn't trust him. He seems crazy to me and I don't think he's a match against the whole mob but Maroni won't hire him. He wants him gone."

I nodded, able to understand his decision. As head of the mob everything rested on Maroni's shoulders and he wasn't a fool, he knew as well as I did how much power the Joker had over everyone. He was doing the right thing.

That night I was restless again. I couldn't sleep at all, and all I wondered about was how he was going to kill her. What would happen? Who would be next? I felt detached from the situation but part of me knew it was better this way. It was time to pick a side and although the Joker said I was his, he had made no attempt to get in touch with me. So it seemed the games were over.

That was what I had thought. It was just gone three o'clock in the morning as I tossed impatiently on the sofa, wanting to sleep but not being able to, when my phone rang. I rubbed my eyes and looked down at it, confused. Was it really ringing at this time or was I hallucinating from lack of sleep?

I answered it and a familiar voice that made me freeze spoke.

"I've got… a really big job. Tomorrow nigh**t**. Do you wanna be part of it?"

"What is it?" I whispered back so that I wouldn't wake the Chechen.

"We're going to kill Batman and get Lau out of jail."

"Are you mad?" I asked.

"No. I'm no**t**."

"I didn't mean… How are we going to get Lau out?"

I thought I heard him laugh at the other end of the phone. "We get caugh**t**."

"We get thrown into jail too?"

"I'll explain it as we go along. Are you in?"

I hesitated, glancing towards the Chechen's bedroom door. Time to pick a side…

"I'm in."

"Good. Get ready and come over now."

"Now? Do you know where I am?"

"Of course."

"Why do you need me to come this early?" I asked, hoping it would be a reason I could get out of.

"There's a lot to do."

"Won't I get in the way?"

"You're either in or out." He replied, knowing why I was trying to delay leaving.

"Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I left the Chechen a note before I left.

_I'm going to get your money back. I'm sorry._

Two hours later I was at the Joker's in my outfit and with everything I needed. He opened the door for me as he heard my motorbike approach.

"Did you see the way Batman threw himself after… uh… Rachel?" He asked. I hid a frown.

"Yes."

"He's going to turn himself in." My mind wasn't working properly from sleep deprivation but a few moments later it clicked into place.

"Oh, that's why you named Rachel next."

"When they take the Batman to county we'll force them to go down lower fifth. Down there a man in a garbage truck will be waiting to get rid of the force they have with them. We'll destroy the van that's holding Batman from a different truck and then at the end of the night we'll get caught."

"Then what?"

I heard a car approaching and shot up to see who it was. The Joker looked relaxed though. "Sit down." He muttered. "And look friendly."

A man walked through the front door. He had long, wispy hair on his chin and was quite large.

"Oh good, you made it." The Joker smiled. I had no idea what was going on.

"You'll make them go away?" The man pleaded. He sounded desperate.

"This is my nurse." The Joker said, pointing to me.

"Hi there." I said to the man in a welcoming, soft voice. He calmed down a fraction – although not much.

"It's a simple procedure. Do you like Christmas?" The Joker asked. I almost laughed at how little sense the conversation made but kept my smile stuck on my face.

The man nodded, a small child-like smile lighting his expression.

"Well, we'll open you up to get rid of the voices." He said, nodding. To be fair to the man, I think I would have believed the Joker. He had made his face seem incredibly sympathetic and caring as though he knew what the man was going through. "Then I'm going to replace them with bright lights! Just like Christmas."

"You will?"

The Joker nodded and told the man to lie on the coffee table which he had cleared especially. The man lay down.

He went into the kitchen and returned with a tray containing lots of various torturous items that he made sure the man didn't see. "When you wake up, everything will be better." The Joker promised, injecting something into the man's arm. I realised it must be a general anaesthetic as the man fell asleep quickly.

The Joker then took out a knife and cut a huge, jagged line across the man's front. He seemed to have got carried away.

"What are you doing?" I asked, incredulously.

"This is our escape from jail." He told me, picking up and examining a mobile phone. He jammed the phone in between the space just underneath the man's ribs. Then he got his needle and thread and sewed the guy's skin back together roughly, leaving a huge, ugly gash all the way up the man's torso.

"Where do you get these people?" I asked, utterly shocked.

"Arkham." The Joker replied.

He left the room to make a phone call and I was left with the man on the table who was beginning to stir.

"Hello, darling." I said, in the kindest voice I could manage. "You just stay still for a moment while the voices leave for good. They've almost gone now. It's okay."

"Did I do good nurse?" The man huffed, groggily.

"You did excellently." I replied. The Joker was sick. I wouldn't put it past him to do something like this to me.

The Joker returned and put the television on. There was a live viewing of the press conference Harvey Dent was holding.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming."_ Harvey said. _"I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done."_

There was uproar in the crowd and Harvey Dent quickly continued. _"Secondly, because the Batman's offered to turn himself in. But firstly, let's consider the situation. Should we give in to these terrorists demands? Do we really think that he's going to –"_

"_You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante, over the lives of citizens?" _A woman from the crowd asked, angrily.

"_The Batman is an outlaw. But that's not why we're demanding he turn himself in; we're doing it because we're scared. We've been happy to let the Batman clean up our streets for us until now."_

"_Things are worse than ever!"_

"_Yes, they are. But the night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming. One day the Batman will have to answer to the laws he's broken. But to us. Not to this madman."_

"_No more dead cops!"_

"_He should turn himself in!" _The crowd roared in agreement and the Joker stared at the screen, taking in everything he could.

"_So be it, take the Batman into custody. I am the Batman."_

The Joker remained staring at the screen, calculating everything.

"Well?"

He checked his watch again and muttered to himself under his breath. "I got the right time. And we've got everything we need.

"How long do we have?"

"A few hours… Go and… Uh… _Sleep_. You'll be awake for a long time."

I did as he said because I was already exhausted. I fell asleep quickly this time, knowing I was part of the action and feeling comforted by this.

The next thing I knew, I was being woken up.

"It's time to go." The Joker said. He had a huge bag like the one had seen when he was robbing the banks. I was too disorientated to ask what was inside. The person the Joker had operated on followed us out of the door and we took his car down to the vehicle we were travelling in. It was amazing.

The Joker got in the front next to a fairly old man with white hair. It was a huge circus van, with the words "Laughter is the best medicine" on the side. A red, spray-painted 'S' had been attached to the start of the phrase, changing the word 'laughter' to 'slaughter'.

Cura held out his hand for me so I could hop inside and we closed the door again. From inside I couldn't tell what was going on but all the men were swapping the information they had been given to try and piece together the whole story.

"I heard the Joker's planning to get us caught by the police." One man said.

"Don't be stupid, then he'd have no men left." Said another, wearing a clown mask.

"Well apparently he's going to get caught too." A third man said.

"Then he must have an escape plan." The man with the mask replied, then changed the subject. "How did your operation go?"

"The voices have gone away." The guy the Joker had operated on replied.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed before the Joker hopped into the back with the rest of us.

"We're going down onto lower fifth." The Joker told me. His plan was working.

A few minutes later the truck we were in collided with something heavy.

"There goes the back-up." The Joker laughed, sliding the door open and holding onto the handles hanging from the ceiling for support. He took out his machine gun and hit the van that had Harvey in. It only created tiny dents in the van so he dropped it and held his hand out. Someone passed him a shotgun.

This left larger dents in the van but still couldn't penetrate it. The Joker knelt down as someone passed him a bazooka. He balanced it on his shoulder and aimed carefully. His tongue traced his lips stressfully in concentration. He took out the police car in front of the van and then leant out. Batman's car raced out from nowhere and the van containing Harvey dodged at the last second – leaving the garbage truck completely wrecked and the man inside dead. So Harvey Dent wasn't Batman.

"Hmm." The Joker said thoughtfully, then knelt back down and loaded another bazooka. He aimed it carefully at the van and paused. When he did fire it hit Batman's car because Batman had driven himself right in the way.

I didn't have time to wonder if the Joker knew that was going to happen because the small explosion sent me flying and the van we were in came to a sudden halt. He told his men to stay in the back as he pulled me out with him and we went into the driver's seat.

"Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent. Oh, excuse me." The Joker said to the unconscious body in front of the steering wheel. "I want to drive."

The Joker opened the door and pushed the man onto the road, before driving off. For some reason, the van with Harvey inside had stalled, so they hadn't gotten too far away.

The Joker hummed to himself as he rammed into a car so he could get directly behind the van. They quickly turned out and the Joker followed.

"I like this job. I like it." He said excitedly as the side of our truck rammed into a stone column. The Joker took out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it.

"Okay, rack them up! Rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up."

I didn't know what he meant but I soon found out, the helicopter that was hovering towards us flew into some wires in between two buildings, went off course and completely crashed and burned.

The Joker laughed manically in a way I had never heard before. It turned me on… unlucky we were in a completely life-threatening situation. A minute later, Batman spun out of an alley on a huge motorbike that made me jealous, quite a distance away.

"Now there's a Batman."

Batman sped towards us and the Joker said, "Ooh, you wanna play, come on."

I realised the Joker wasn't going to stop so I yanked his seatbelt and pulled it around him, clicking it in place.

"Come on." He said, as Batman got closer. I tried to pull my seatbelt around me but it jammed and the more I tried to pull the more stuck it became. Thankfully, Batman didn't run into us but dived under the van. The Joker followed his bike to see what he was doing and I had almost strapped my seatbelt in when I felt a huge lurch.

The truck flipped over one-hundred and eighty degrees. I crashed against the floor, which was now covered in broken glass from the windscreen head first and for a moment I couldn't move from confusion. What had happened again?

The Joker unclipped his seatbelt and fell out of a hole that used to be the door. I groaned in pain and crawled out after him a few seconds later. Some of the people in the back had survived and were stepping out unsteadily. I remained on my hands and knees, too worried to stand. I moved my hand gingerly to my head which was covered in shards of glass and bleeding.

I looked around for the Joker to check he was okay and saw him walking away, firing at random cars.

"What is he doing?" I asked the men who had got out of the van with a shaky voice.

Once the car had crashed I saw Batman, still on his bike, driving directly towards the Joker.

"Come on, hit me!" The Joker yelled.

"What is he doing?" I screamed, panicking. My heart stopped beating, waiting to see if it was about to shatter.

Batman let out an angry yell and dodged past the Joker, crashing into the van and knocking himself out.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. Tears rolled out of my eyes from the shock of my injury and the enormity of what the Joker was just about to do.

One thing that was certain was that my respect for Batman had grown infinitely. He could have killed the Joker easily but he crashed instead. He saved the Joker's life and, in a way, saved mine.

No one else seemed to care or find it strange. The man in the clown mask moved to pull the mask off Batman and received an electric shock. The Joker laughed hysterically, jumping and kicking the man now on the floor. He took out his knife and moved over to Batman as I felt my head again.

A man dressed all in black pressed a gun against the Joker, who groaned. "Can you please just give me a minute?"

The guy pushed the Joker to the ground and took off his mask. It was Jim Gordon. Apparently he wasn't dead after all. "We've got you, you son of a bitch."

The Joker dropped his knife as someone else came and grabbed my arms, hauling me up and into the van that Harvey Dent was stepping out of.

I allowed myself to be thrown into the van without a fight. I forgot the plan. I forgot everything. Why would he do that?

If Batman hadn't…

I continued to cry silently, staring at the Joker with defeat in my eyes. I might never have seen his face again.

He looked back at me, for once not deep in thought but confused – and slightly shocked. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand how messed up I would have been forever if he died. In truth, I hadn't understood it either. Not until it almost happened.

Some other men were thrown in with us but I hardly noticed. My eyes never left the Joker's face until I felt the blood dripping down my forehead. I wiped it away impatiently. It wasn't as bad as the one had been when I was drunk. I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them, holding my legs close to my chest for comfort. He looked away from me, with something that looked like guilt on his face.

At least he was keeping his head, because the job wasn't over. They didn't take us to county because I think Gordon wanted to deal with this himself. He took us to the holding cells at MCU.

We were thrown into a huge cage in the centre of the room. Policemen came to jeer at us, probably because half of their friends had died at our hands. The Joker ignored it, staring straight ahead with a smirk on his face as he watched someone taking all the knives from his pockets.

"Stand away! All of you! I don't want anything for his mob lawyer to use, do you understand?" Gordon shouted and the cops moved away, slightly embarrassed.

"Back from the dead?" The mayor asked.

"I… Couldn't risk my family's safety." He admitted.

"What have we got?"

"Nothing." Gordon replied, tiredly. "No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name… no other alias."

"Go home, Gordon. This clown will keep 'til morning. Go get some rest; you're going to need it. Tomorrow you take the big job. You don't have any say in the matter, Commissioner Gordon!"

Everyone applauded him, including the Joker – sarcastically. I didn't join in. I felt lost, as though I wasn't really there. I didn't know whether it was the bang on my head or the shock.

The Joker's men were thrust into the cage with us.

"Look at these ugly bastards!" One of the cops shouted.

"I don't feel good…" The guy the Joker had operated on said.

"You're a cop killer. You're lucky to be feeling anything below the neck." The policeman replied, threateningly.

"Please!"

"Step away from the bars." Another cop ordered.

"My insides hurt!"

The Joker smirked but then quickly hid it. He moved to me and muttered in my ear. "Kiss me."

"What? Why?"

He glanced at the guy whimpering by the bars and turned back to me. "Just do it."

I hadn't kissed him before. Ever. He just didn't do it. So I felt extremely nervous as I placed my hand at the back of his head and he grinned at me darkly.

I froze for a fraction of a second, before pressing my lips against his. I felt his hand on my waist and I put my other on his neck, stroking his scars with my thumb. I felt his tongue flit against my lips and opened it with a small gasp. He moved it inside my mouth and moved mine in response. Wow.

"Can someone get her off him?" One of the police officers growled. I didn't stop and a few seconds later I was being dragged off him. I grinned at him slyly and he smirked back before the cell door was closed on him again. I was taken reasonably far from the cell I was in before and the officer shoved me in the cell next to Lau's. It was a pretty stupid thing to do really but I didn't complain.

I tried to hear what was going on but I couldn't hear anything from where I was. I sat on the seat instead with my back pressed against the wall and my feet stretched out in front of me.

"Nice to see you Lau."

"You're a mess." He replied, with a dry laugh. I glared at him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You used to work for the mob and now look at you! Locked up in jail."

The police officer guarding the cells was within earshot so I couldn't tell Lau that this wasn't permanent or that the Joker was coming for him so I simply retorted, "I'm not the only one."

He fell silent, embarrassed. I knew he had squealed on us – everyone did. He decided against saying anything else.

I was in the cell for what felt like hours. I was glad I hadn't told Lau the truth now because he would have only voiced my worries. Was the Joker going to leave me here?

"How long have I been here?" I asked the guard. He smiled mockingly at me.

"One hour, fifty-seven minutes and… thirteen seconds."

I groaned. How long would it take someone to get out of jail? Okay that was the wrong question. How long would it take the Joker? Not long!

Why, two hours later, were me and Lau still here?

What if it was a plot to lock me up? Why did he care if the mob had their money or not? He wanted me to get further away from him and the others when he asked me to kiss him. Was it so I'd be stuck here and they could escape?

It made sense and I became nervous as I looked down at the handcuffs on my wrist.

"The food isn't that bad." Lau said, trying to anger me. It worked. I stood up on my seat, trying to see further around the room – trying to find a way out. My phone had been taken off me.

Would the Chechen get me out? Did he even have any money to do it with?

"Where's the money?" I asked Lau, although it wouldn't matter if I knew anyway. No one else would find out.

"I'm not telling you." He laughed stubbornly. I sat on the floor.

"How long has it been now?" I asked the guard.

He snorted with laughter. "One hour, fifty-eight minutes and thirty-four seconds."

"Are you joking?" I asked, angrily. He didn't answer.

I examined my handcuffs, trying to find a way out of them and trying to drag them off my wrists. The guard and Lau were watching me with amusement but I didn't care. I wanted to get out. Now.

As though the Joker had read my thoughts there was a huge explosion, the guard fell and banged his head badly – knocking himself unconscious.

I sighed in relief. Lau looked terrified.

"Did you really think I'd let myself get caught?" I laughed, he looked at me fearfully. "It was all for you babe."

I stood up and moved to the door of my cage, looking for the Joker. He appeared a minute later, grabbing the keys from the guard who was slumped against a desk.

"Hello there." He said to Lau as he unlocked my cage door. He got hold of my handcuffs and found the key for them, unlocking them. He was about to toss them aside but then put them in his pocket. I didn't know why.

He grabbed Lau and the rest of the his men that hadn't been harmed during the explosion followed us out as we hijacked some police cars. The Joker leant out of his window as we drove haphazardly through the streets. I remained subdued, glad to be out of the jail. My blood had dried and I was no longer bleeding so I picked shards of glass from my hair.

Lau led us to the money.

We got out of the car and into a huge building, in the centre of which was a huge pile of money. The Joker grabbed Lau and tied him up before calling some of his other workers that weren't on the pervious job.

Within twenty minutes they were all there and the Joker told me to call the Chechen.

"Red, are you okay? I heard you got arrested!"

"It was planned. Guess what I'm standing next to right now…"

"You aren't…" He said, his voice filled with awe.

"If you want your money, it's right here." I grinned, glad to hear him happy. I gave him the address as the Joker pulled Lau to the top of the pile of money. The Chechen walked in as the Joker had finished, smoking a cigar.

"Not so crazy as you look!" The Chechen yelled, beaming and giving me a one-armed hug.

"I told you, I'm a man of my word!" The Joker replied, jumping and sliding down the money.

"Where's the Italian?" The Joker asked.

"He's still in hospital, having his cast taken off."

The Joker grabbed a handful of money and threw it at Lau, hitting him square in the face.

"Joker-man. What will you do with all your money?" The Chechen asked.

The Joker turned back towards him. "See I'm a guy of simple tastes. I enjoy… dynamite. And gun powder. And **gasoline**." He called.

That's when I knew it was wrong and the smile faded from both mine and the Chechen's face.

One of his men poured gasoline all over the money.

"What the –" The Chechen yelled, moving forwards angrily.

"Ah-ta-ta-ta." He said, pointing his gun at the Chechen. My hand flew to the mouth in shock. I was caught in the middle. "And you know the thing they have in common? They're cheap."

"You said you were a man of your word." The Chechen said angrily.

"Oh, I am." The Joker replied, taking the cigar from the Chechen's mouth and blowing the end. "I'm only burning my half."

He tossed the cigar onto the money which immediately burst into flames, with Lau still sitting on top. The Chechen looked at the money and for a moment I thought he was going to cry.

"All you care about is money. This town deserves a better class of criminal. And I'm gonna give it to them! Tell your men they work for me now. This is my city."

I had to admire the Chechen for his response, even if it sort of counted for me too. "They won't work for a freak." He snarled.

"Frrreeeak." The Joker said, mimicking the Chechen's accent. "Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches? Hmm? Then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is."

Two men grabbed hold of the Chechen and another caught the switchblade the Joker had tossed towards them. They quickly dragged the Chechen out of the room.

"No!" I screamed after a moment of frozen shock and pelted after him. "Let him go. Now."

The men looked at me and laughed. "Or what little girl? Joker's orders."

"I don't give a fuck what the Joker ordered you to do. I'm telling you to let him go!" I screeched. They laughed at me again so I punched the man holding the switchblade hard in the stomach and snatched the knife from him, quickly slashing his throat and killing him.

Then I stabbed the knife deep into the arm of one of the people holding the Chechen. He shouted in pain as he let go and the Chechen dealt with the other man that had hold of him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away, running with him.

"You've got to run." I told him. "There's nothing here for you now. If you stay you'll die."

He looked furious and emotional but he kissed my cheek and nodded, knowing this would be the last time he saw me. I fought back tears.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered.

"No, I'm sorry. But I'll get that clown back." He said, looking at me with apologetic eyes. "I hope this makes you happy."

Then he made a phone call as he drove away and I walked back inside, wondering what he meant by that. The way he said it and his face…

"The police are coming, we've got to go." The Joker said, grabbing me and pulling me towards one of the abandoned police cars.

I got him to drop me off at my house. I wanted time to think.

As soon as I got in I strode into my garage.

Jon? Dead.

Gambol? Dead?

The Chechen? As good as…

I tore each part down. So who was left standing? Batman, obviously. The Joker. Me… and Maroni. Of course, I knew Maroni wouldn't last long. The Joker had almost all of his men. If he had any sense he'd get out too.

So that left the three of us. And it was all my fault.

If I'd have left the mob in the first place then Jon would still be alive. If I'd have intercepted the Joker, Gambol would still be alive (although I didn't care about that much).

If I'd stuck to my responsibilities and stayed with the mob like I was always meant to then the Chechen wouldn't have to leave. Maroni wouldn't be in danger. Organised crime in Gotham wouldn't have collapsed at the hands of one man.

But of course they weren't the hands of one man. They were my hands too. I stood by his side from the very moment he robbed our money. I stood by as the Chechen trusted him, as he killed Gambol, after Maroni warned me not to. I still did.

I thought he was sick for cutting up a guy and putting an explosive in him so that everyone else could escape. But I was so much worse.

I had the man I loved killed when he trusted me. I watched as someone on the same side as me died, just because I didn't like him. I allowed the Joker to gain control over the mob even though I had guessed what he was doing. The only person who had ever really cared about me almost died and now he had nothing and had to leave forever.

I picked the crumpled photo of him off the ground and stared at it in tears. How could I be so heartless?

I kissed the photo and set it down on the floor and went to look at myself in the mirror. I knew what I was. I was a killer. I used people. I hurt the people that cared about me. I was a freak and I was dangerous.

At the same time I felt resentment for my parents. This was their fault! If they'd let me have a normal childhood, with friends and schools and boys like every other normal person I wouldn't have turned out so twisted and cold.

It was just me. Then the hard, terrifying truth crashed down on me like the weight of the ocean. I had no one left. There was no one left to look after me. I was on my own. Alone.

The Chechen always looked out for me and now he was gone. The Joker wasn't the "taking care" type. I was sure he couldn't care less about my feelings or well-being. He probably wouldn't even understand. I couldn't rely on him and have friendly chats with him like I did with the Chechen. It was all mind games with him. Just games.

It was my fault I had no one and I didn't deserve anyone. I knew that but it didn't help in the slightest. I pulled myself away from the mirror and left, to go to the Joker's. I wanted to take my mind off it. I _needed _to take my mind off it. I walked because my bike was still parked at his.

He grinned when he saw me and I led him straight up to the bedroom. Once we were inside he looked at me nervously and turned away.

"I'm not in the mood."

"Why not?" I asked, pulling him back towards me. He looked back at me and I saw the lust in his eyes as he licked his lips but then he shook his head and pushed me away.

"I'm just not." I could sense his coldness again and I didn't know what to do. He walked behind me to his bedside table and moved his fingers over it. He opened the drawer a fraction but then slammed it shut and walked away.

I could see his muscles through his shirt and suddenly I wanted him. I wanted him more than anything. So as he walked away I clenched my fist and smacked him in the mouth.

He stopped, still facing away, and rubbed the place where I'd just hit him. Then he cracked his neck and turned back to me, an evil glint in his eyes

He threw me onto the bed, his fingernails scraping the skin off my stomach and making me bleed erotically. I closed my eyes as I felt the small stinging and enjoyed it. I heard him open the drawer and in the next second my wrists were in handcuffs around the post of the bed and I was stuck. He moved his fingers lightly over my body as his tongue slowly moved across his lips. Then he got something else from the drawer.

"What is that?" I asked, slightly worried. I yanked against the handcuffs, trying to find the part that undid them. But these were real and I couldn't escape.

"Just a little something I made."

"What is it for?" I asked, trying hard to get out of the cuffs.

"It's for… Ahh, tattoos." He grinned, looking at me menacingly. He turned it on and it made a loud, angry noise and he began to write something on my hip.

"Is it a real tattoo?" I asked.

He looked at me, a sadistic glint in his eye. "Of course."

That meant permanent but I didn't dare move in case I made him do it wrong. He had already started.

A few minutes later he finished but I couldn't see it and besides, he took my mind off it as he moved my thong to one side and I felt his breath tickle me.

He took my mind off everything.


	16. Chapter 16

I moved to the bathroom and lifted my dress up to see the tattoo he had left on my hip.

_I Belong To The Joker_

I couldn't help laughing to myself. He had branded me permanently. It was almost comforting. It was all I had now.

I bounced down the stairs happily and into the lounge where he was stood, staring from the window.

"Nice tattoo." I grinned.

"I think you should go." He replied, determined not to look at me. He moved past me and opened the front door and his eyes never met mine.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… lea**ve**."

"Oh. Okay…" I said, hurt and confused as I walked away. A voice told me to leave my motorbike, because then I'd have a reason to come back. He had obviously thought the same thing.

"Aren't you going to take your _bike_?" He asked, sounding detached. This made me snap and I stomped back to him furiously. He'd just branded me with his name and now he was throwing me out?!

"Why?" I yelled, pushing him backwards. "Why do you want me to take it?"

He grabbed me by both my wrists and pinned me against the wall. Then his expression changed completely. He was looking at me in lust again and something else… He groaned angrily and pushed me onto the ground outside his house.

"Just go!" He shouted, slamming the door.

I didn't understand. It had quickly become dark outside and I revved the engine of my bike, setting off down the winding path. Hot, livid tears poured down my cheeks as I drove slowly. I didn't really want to go back to an empty house, with the pictures of everyone I had lost but there was nowhere else for me either. My tattoo felt sore underneath my dress.

I missed the turning for the path into the forest so I decided to keep driving until I reached the abandoned warehouse and then I could ride up the hill. My phone buzzed in my purse and I reached for it carefully, keeping my balance with one hand on the throttle. It was the Joker.

"Hello?" I said in a dejected voice. Why would he call me as soon as he'd got rid of me? Had I left something else at his that he wanted to get rid of?

I didn't hear his words because as I began to turn at the warehouse there was a figure at the other end that I recognised. Someone I recognised too well.

"JON?" I screeched, in shock. My hand gripped the throttle and I accidently pulled it back all the way. I lost my one-handed balance and my bike skidded to the floor. I fell off and felt my skin scrape painfully against the ground as my phone clattered next to me. I saw my bike grind to a halt before my head smashed against a curb and everything turned black.

*

I groaned, disorientated. My eyes were closed and one felt slightly swollen. I was aware of my arms and legs burning and aching and I vaguely remembered the Joker telling me to leave. Had he done this to me?

I felt cold – no material was pressed against my front. What was he doing to me? No, I remembered despairingly, he had told me to leave. I crashed…

I opened my eyes warily. I was wearing an unrecognisable shirt which was completely unbuttoned and nothing else. My whole body was on show – the tattoo along with every love bite, claw mark and cut. To match these were long grazes on my arms and legs where the skin had scraped off against the ground.

I moved my head to the side slowly – my neck felt stiff – and saw my clothes on the floor in a messy pile.

I tried to reach for them but something was tugging against me and for an insane, fleeting second I thought I was a puppet. I controlled my panic as I looked up, ignoring the sharp pain in my neck and head as I did this. My wrists were tightly bound with rope that was attached to the headboard of a confusingly familiar bed. I tested my legs and found that they, too, were tied at the foot of the bed.

I blushed, embarrassed at my naked entrapment. I tugged at the ropes but only succeeded in undoing the process my arms had made at trying to heal themselves. If I had continued to practise my ballet I would have been able to hold myself in a sitting position which would have doubled my chances of getting out of the ropes but I hated ballet and I gave up trying to hold the position as quickly as I had tried.

The room was filled with dust. It was eerie; it looked like I was disturbing a dead person's bedroom that had been left as a shrine to their memory. Like I was tied inside a mausoleum. I looked around properly for the first time and noticed the desk piled high with paper next to the door and the wardrobe in the far corner with a mirror so dirty it didn't reflect. One of the doors of the wardrobe was left ajar and coat hangers adorned the floor around it as though they had been hastily tossed aside.

The realisation hit me but it couldn't be possible. I _heard_ the gunshot! I heard it… but I hadn't seen it happen. He couldn't be alive. Someone was playing a sick joke on me… probably the Joker. I tried to reach the ropes with my teeth but I couldn't.

There was a creak on the floorboard outside the room and I gasped under my breath, yanking viciously at the ropes that tightened around me as I did. A tall figure walked into the room with his back to me. I didn't recognise him. He had long, scruffy black hair and wore a white shirt, black tie and jeans.

He turned to me and all I could feel was shock. I couldn't say it was Jon because he wasn't there – it was the Scarecrow. He permanently wore a hard expression and looked down at me with eyes that told me I was in trouble. That wasn't what shocked me though. What shocked me was the flash of insanity in his eyes and the small, bitter smile playing on his face. My heart sped a million beats per second with so many different, confusing emotions. Dread, confusion, defiance and… excitement.

"You've been busy." He said, in a dry, disconnected voice. I felt my throat constrict and I couldn't reply. I had thought I'd never see his face again. My eyes stung with tears – I didn't know what type.

"Sorry I had to tie you up. It was for your own good."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He let out a humourless laugh. "I couldn't risk you running back to the clown."

I flushed red. "Jon…" I began but couldn't finish.

"You didn't waste much time. How many months did you wait? Six?"

"I thought you were dead…"

"I'm flattered." He replied resentfully. He turned his back to me and opened a briefcase that rested dustily on the desk, taking out objects I couldn't see and lining them up on the table.

"How come you're here?" I asked, then added, "You can untie me, I won't run away."

"I'm afraid I can't. There are going to be some… complications. And I'm here because the Chechen told me the mob had collapsed and it was safe to come back."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice nothing but a whisper.

"He was going to shoot me but pulled his gun away at the last second. He said he couldn't do it to you and told me I had an hour to get out of Gotham –"

"But I thought you weren't going to go?" I interrupted, remembering the fight we had that led to the scenario.

"Of course I was going to go! I had no choice! I wanted you to leave the mob so you could come with me and we could get away from here and start a new life. Could you not see that?"

"I…" I began, stunned. "I didn't… think."

He let out another cold laugh. "Well, here I am."

"Where did you go?"

"I had to keep on the move, selling my drugs so that I could eat and then moving somewhere else when they realised what type of drug it was and came after me. I stopped in different squats, run down hostels and broken down buildings. I'd stare at my phone every night, looking at your name, considering calling you. I hoped you'd ring, just for the sake of it – just in case. But you never did. And every morning I'd wake up wishing you were with me and wishing I'd called you the night before."

"So why didn't you call?"

"The Chechen asked me not to. And I was scared you'd moved on or wouldn't want to hear from me. All I had was the hope that you still cared. I was doing it for you."

I tried subtly to wriggle my wrists free of the rope when a bright spark of insanity lit his eyes up. He laughed, but not the short embittered laugh he gave before. His laugh was tinged with lunacy. "But you didn't love me at all did you? Well, I've got nothing to hide from you now."

"The tattoo… it doesn't mean anything, he did it just before he kicked me out."

He paused, before picking two objects up from the table and coming to sit on the bed with me, the furthest side from the door. He stroked my hair soothingly but it only terrified me. He wasn't right anymore. Leaving had completely changed him and he wasn't sane, he was psychotic.

"Wouldn't you like to run away with me now? Let's pretend the world ended and we can go off on our own, as if no one else exists. There is no mob now."

I tried to figure out what my true feelings were underneath all the confusion. He had the upper hand and I needed to get out of these ropes no matter what my decision was because this wasn't safe. I decided to work towards that.

"I think the Joker would hunt me down. If we're going to leave we'll have to leave now."

"I wouldn't worry about him, he won't be interested in you anymore once I'm finished with you."

I bit my lip, thinking hard. "What do you mean?"

"You're too… well. You're thinking too much. I can help with that." He said, sliding a gas canister from his pocket. "The only thing left to decide is which you want to happen first."

He ran his fingers softly over my body, missing all the marks the Joker had left on me until he came to the tattoo. Putting his hand back into his pocket he pulled out something silver. A scalpel.

"You're mad." I said, trying to hide the new fear in my voice. "I can have it removed!"

"I know. I'll do it. You'd need to travel miles to find someone that hasn't been warned about you in the newspapers. I read them all. I'll have to get rid of it myself."

"I won't love you if you turn me insane."

"Perhaps not, but you'll _need_ me." He replied and moved back over to the desk where a bag lay dropped on the floor, the only thing not covered in dust. From it he retrieved his mask and put it on."

"Jon, don't." I pleaded. There was nothing else I could do, the ropes were too tight.

He paused and took off his mask. He bent down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. As he did, the Joker's face flashed in my mind and I knew instantly that although he may not want me, I wanted him and I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice so I didn't return the kiss, but pulled away.

"I love you." He whispered in my ear, before putting his mask back on, twisting the canister and releasing a thick, heavy, white cloud of fear toxin into my face.

I tried not to breathe but it made no difference, it seeped into my lungs anyway and the adrenaline got to work, racing through my blood. The room pulsated as my head tried to make sense of what was happening.

There was a loud clatter downstairs – or at least I thought there was. Jon hadn't turned away from me but had removed his mask once the air had cleared and began stroking my sore head.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed loudly, sense leaving me as the toxin affected my brain. I didn't care about being clever and trying to get him to untie me – I just said whatever was in my head.

He just hushed me and pressed his lips back against mine. I thrashed against the ropes wildly, trying to pull him away from me. I bit down hard on his lip and split it, getting his blood all over my mouth.

He pulled away and grabbed his scalpel, pressing it against the bottom of my tattoo. As the toxin finally reached my brain properly I began to laugh. Fear had never bothered me because I'd learnt to control it and turn it into excitement but the concentrated dose he had given me was too much. I giggled as I felt the blade touch my skin but before he could continue the door burst open – it was the Joker.

His dark eyes fell upon mine but I couldn't tell what emotion was there because they quickly turned and glared disgustedly at Jon.

Jon acted quickly, thrust on his mask and released his drug upon the Joker who bent in half, spluttering slightly. Then he straightened up and began to laugh.

"Nice try." The Joker said, pulling his switchblade from his pocket.

"Did it ever occur to you that if I hadn't left she wouldn't have been interested in you at all?" Jon asked, with a tight smile as he stepped closer to me, his scalpel held tightly in his hand.

"I think you're wron**g**." The Joker replied.

I burst into hysterics and both men turned to look at me, the Scarecrow taking off his mask. Jon had a bitterly satisfied smile and the Joker looked… concerned? His eyes moved from Jon's canister back to my face and I choked out through my laughter, "He's going to peel my skin off!"

I couldn't fathom why no one saw the funny side of this. Couldn't they imagine it? The image was hilarious!

"Where's the antidote?" The Joker asked, danger in his voice.

Jon's acidic smile said it all. "What antidote?"

The Joker licked his lips as he looked back at me – I was crying with laughter.

"I don't think it's you she wants anymore." Jon told him.

The Joker growled and pinned Jon against the wall, his switchblade in the corner of Jon's mouth.

"Do you want to know… how I _know_ she wants me?" The Joker asked him and I became silent excitedly, so I could listen to the story.

It was difficult to concentrate because the spray of the drug he had directed at the Joker was affecting me too and it was becoming too much.

"When… we were on a _job_. She… fastened my seatbelt _before_ her own." He nodded. "So not only did she leave the mob… for _me_. But she put my life before he**rs**. If I _remember_… she wouldn't leave the mob for you and _then_ she tried to **kill** you."

The smile had gone from Jon's face and the room was becoming blotchy – my vision was going wrong.

"The way she _moans_ my name and begs me not to sto**p **tells me… _everything_ I need to know." He finished, dragging the knife up Jon's cheek. Jon dropped to the floor and the Joker moved over to me but the room was spinning.

He quickly severed the ropes but I couldn't move – I felt too weak to do anything. He pulled Jon's shirt from me and transferred the knives from his outer, purple jacket into his inner, blue jacket before wrapping me in the purple one and lifting me up.

The next time I opened my eyes I was in a van, wrapped in a thick purple jacket with the roar of an engine racing in the background. The Joker had me in his arms whilst he was driving and I was wedged uncomfortably against the steering wheel, my head pressed against his window.

"Stay awake." He warned me.

"I can't." I mumbled weakly, feeling as though I were about to faint or be sick.

"Look at me." He told me and it took a lot of effort to meet his eyes that were darting from mine to the road and back again. "Stay awake."

"It's too hard." I replied, closing my eyes. His hand grabbed my face and pulled it back towards his, forcing me to open my eyes reluctantly.

"We're almost back."

"Why did you even come for me?" I grumbled, almost incoherently.

"Because… I…"

Everything turned black.

*

I took a deep breath of fresh air. As soon as I did a set of soft lips crashed against mine and a hand rested on my cheek.

I panicked. I had thought the Joker had saved me from Jon. My eyes flew open but they fell upon a painted face. I closed my eyes again, completely confused but deciding to go along with it. My fingers twisted in his hair and he wrapped his arm around me more gently than I was accustomed to.

He pulled away unashamedly, as though that was something normal. I waited for an explanation but his face told me he was waiting for me to speak. I wondered if I had gone mad and I was hallucinating.

"Erm…" I began, feeling my cheeks turn pink as I broke the silence. He smirked and made my heart pound so fast I felt dizzy.

"Is that… uh… all you have to say?" He asked, his voice turning my cheeks even more red. I cleared my throat and looked away so I could organize my thoughts. I was lying on his bed, still wrapped in his purple coat. I pulled it further around me and sat up – he put his arm around me as I moved which didn't help my confusion much.

"Did you hit your head too?" I blurted out.

He just laughed. "Can't think of any useful questions?"

I moved closer to him, the sound of his laugh enticing me. He wrapped his hand further around me. "Not at the moment. How about… how long have I been asleep?"

"Almost two days." He nodded, his voice turning slightly more serious. "And I had to _stitch_ your head up… and the cut below your tattoo."

"What?" I asked, pulling the coat away to reveal another scar. "I thought he hadn't cut me…"

"I know."

"How did you find me?"

"You screamed his name loudly enough down the phone." He smirked. "He really is _dead_ this time."

I was surprised at how little this bothered me. "Good."

The Joker pulled my face back to his and kissed me again. I forgot how to breathe properly and wondered if I'd ever get used to something as strange as this. His tongue moved against my lips and I opened them for him as I moved on top of him. He sat up and pressed me against him but still only kissing me.

He grinned as he pulled away from me again. I wondered how long it would be before he'd push me out. Seeing as he was in an unfathomably good mood I decided to ask him.

"Are you going to throw me out again after this?"

He breathed out heavily and slid his hands down to my legs. I suppressed a shiver.

"No." He replied and shook his head. He changed the subject. "Harvey Dent's still in hospital. I need to see him soon."

"What for?"

"Well… We needed a _distraction_ to get out of jail so I had him and his girlfriend _kidnapped_ and wired up to some oil drums. I lied to Batman and timed it so that Rachel would get killed so I need to make sure he blames Gordon and not me."

There was a long pause as I processed what he said. "Why would he blame Gordon?"

The Joker grinned. "_Because_ it was Gordon's men that picked up him and Rachel. It was _Gordon_ that didn't save her in time."

"You've planned all this out haven't you?" I marvelled. I knew he was a genius but I was still quite shocked that it had all worked out so well. He just grinned secretively in response. "So how are you going to speak to Dent?"

"Have you ever played nurses?" He asked. I climbed off him and sat beside him again.

"Don't you mean doctors and nurses?"

"No, the doctors don't come in 'til later."

"What?" I giggled, wondering if I'd ever had a more confusing few minutes.

"Well… we dress up as nurses –"

"Excuse me?" I interrupted. He ignored it.

"And walk into the hospital. I'll speak to Dent while you stand guard outside. _Then_ we use the hijacked bus to kidnap some doctors but we dress the doctor's as clowns and my men as doctors so that the police target the wrong people."

"You've lost me. Where has the bus come in?"

"Don't worry all you need to know is: don't let Dent see you outside the room."

"Alright but what are the hostages for?"

"Well I'm going to blow up some ferries and the hostages are a distraction. They'll have the detonators on the ferries and I'm going to tell them that if they blow up the other boat then I'll let them live but the detonators will be for their own boats."

"So they'll actually be blowing up their own boat." I laughed. "And whoever didn't kill the others will be blamed unfairly anyway. When are you planning to see Dent?"

"That _depends_… on how you're feeling."

"I feel good enough to go and kill some cops."

He began to reply but his phone buzzed. He answered it slightly irritably.

"What?" He asked and after a short pause he walked downstairs. I followed him and sat on the sofa as he switched on the TV.

"_Harvey Dent didn't want to give in to this maniac, do you think you know better than him?"_

"_I think if we could talk to Dent today, he may feel differently –" _A man stuttered.

"_And we all wish him a speedy recovery. Because God knows, we need him now." _The news reporter Mike Engel interrupted.

"Send the bus to Gotham General and wait there. Make sure you get Engel."

The Joker hung up and hummed to himself as he dialled another number.

"_Let's take the next caller… Who is this?" _Mike asked.

"I had a vision of a world _without_ Batman." The Joker said and his voice echoed on the television. "The mob ground out a little profit and the police tried to shut them down, one block at a time. And it was so… boring. I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mister Reece spoiling everything but why should _I_ have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance! If Coleman Reece isn't _dead_ in sixty minutes, then I blow up a hospital."

He switched his phone off and grabbed my hand, pulling me upstairs. He grabbed a dress from his wardrobe and threw it towards me.

"Put these on." He told me, throwing some stockings and shoes on the floor as well. I grabbed them and went into the bathroom, taking my make-up with me. I slipped the white dress on and buttoned it up after pulling on the stockings and white heels.

Trying to make my hair look normal took much longer because I had to be careful to avoid the cut the Joker had sewn up. When I left the bathroom I came face to face with the Joker.

I bit my lip as I tried to contain my laughter. He was wearing a ginger wig, a dress and a nurse's mask.

"Did you not want to dress as a man?" I asked, still trying not to burst out laughing. He ignored my question and led me into the white van left outside his house. There was a blood stain on the driver's window and when I got in I was almost sick – the smell was overwhelming.

"What _is_ that?"

"I didn't have _time_ to take the body out the back."

I turned around and vaguely recognised the blonde guy that I'd used to try and make the Joker jealous.

"He stinks." I replied and rolled the windows down.

Gotham went past in a blur and my fingers absentmindedly traced the new scar on my head. I smiled weakly to myself, thinking of how scarred and bruised my body had become since I'd met the Joker. My mind wandered back to the bank robbery when I'd first seen him and I wondered what would have happened if I'd left or fought like I probably would have if I wasn't so desperate for some excitement. I didn't know if things would have turned out easier or harder but either way I was glad I'd stayed.

The Joker turned off the engine and pulled the key out of the ignition. "Just don't let Dent see you and make sure no one interrupts us."

I didn't reply as I slipped my knife into my pocket and left the van, trying to look as normal as possible. The Joker practically skipped towards the hospital, making me wonder if that's how he thought a girl acted or if it was just him. We walked into the hospital without any problems; people were too busy trying to lift a man into a bus with only pillows to support him. The Joker smirked and I guessed that was the bus he was hijacking.

As we walked down the corridor a cop stepped out of a private room and stopped in his tracks. Clearly the Joker's disguise wasn't as good as he'd hoped and the guy fumbled with his belt, trying to reach his gun. He was far too slow – he hit the floor before he'd even managed to get it out of the holster. The Joker looked around and pointed to a different room.

"Put him in there."

I dragged the body into a small storage cupboard. He was overweight so it took a bit of effort, not to mention the struggle of closing the door behind me. I turned back to the window into Dent's room, just out of Dent's sight and saw the Joker patting Dent's hand.

My eyes widened in shock. Dent wasn't retaliating, he was listening. I shook my head in disbelief. How did the Joker do it?

"Davis!" A man yelled from behind me. I kept still and put on my best damsel-in-distress voice.

"I thought no one was going to come. I've hurt my ankle, I can't move it." I whined, subtly lowering the zip on my dress.

Behind me I heard a familiar click. I didn't need to turn around to know I had a gun pointed at me.

"Turn around slowly, with your hands in the air!" The man ordered. My voice must be recognisable now.

I turned around seductively and grinned as I walked towards him. "You got me."

"Stay where you are." He ordered, sounding nervous.

"Or what? You can't shoot me. That's murder."

"I'm a cop and you're a homicidal maniac. It's not murder, it's justice."

"Maybe to you and your friends but to me and _my_ friends it's murder. You don't want to end up like Dent do you? Because it will happen." I replied, now close enough to touch him. "You wouldn't get away with it."

I kept my movements slow and purposeful so that when my hand quickly darted towards his gun and yanked it off him he didn't have time to react.

I admired it in my hand but as soon as I'd grabbed it I'd known I had no intention of using it. I threw it onto the floor behind me and smirked at his slightly desperate expression.

He swung his fist towards me but I ducked in time and elbowed him in the stomach. He doubled over for a split second but it was long enough for me to grab his head and slam it into the hospital wall.

I took out my knife and aimed for a spot on his neck when I heard a yell from behind me.

"Drop your weapon! Drop it now!"

I groaned, dragging the police officer up and pressing my knife against his throat. "Why don't you drop your weapon?"

The second officer hesitated and I glanced into Dent's room. The Joker had him pinned down onto the bed. I looked back towards the officer pointing the gun at me but out of the corner of my eye I saw a second gun. A gun held in the Joker's hand which he flipped and put into Harvey's hand – pressing it against his own head.

"No." I whispered to myself, suddenly overwhelmed with panic. Tears prickled my eyes and my breathing sped up. The officer ahead of me looked confused and the one I was holding struggled underneath my grip. I backed away slowly; the officer's gun never left my head.

Swiftly I picked up the gun from the floor and fired it at him before slitting my hostage's throat. I looked back into the room – Dent had just flipped a coin. Then the very thing the Joker had warned me against happened and Dent caught my eye.

I couldn't watch. I pressed my back against the wall, next to the window, so that I couldn't see. Every second pounded past slowly and my ears were strained, waiting for the sound of a gunshot. I bit back the tears and wondered whether I should leave – I couldn't stand this. Just then the door to his room opened, making me jump out of my skin. The Joker immerged, squirting some soap into his hands and washing them.

I slapped him. He turned his face slowly back towards mine, his eyebrows raised in shock. The tears spilled from my eyes and I rubbed them away angrily – I didn't want to show a weakness. His hand traced the place I'd just hit him and he grinned, licking your lips.

"Did you… uh… _see_ that?"

"Why would you do that?" I asked, trying hard not to let my voice shake but failing.

"Did it bother you?" He laughed. I had to stop myself from hitting him again.

"You could have died! Are you stupid? Or do you just care so little that you'd find it funny if I did the same thing?" The angry string of words flowed from my mouth without them meaning to and I immediately felt embarrassed. The subject of his feelings towards me was not something I ever wanted to bring up –I'd rather avoid the disappointment.

I turned on my heel and began to walk away, shaking my head to myself. Why had I done that? Why couldn't I just _pretend_ that I didn't care?

"I knew he wouldn't do it." He replied casually. I kept walking. He'd missed the point completely. I didn't want him to risk it. Never.

"_Red_." He growled catching me up and grabbing me. I tried to pull away but he had a painful grip on me and wasn't letting go. I braced myself for an argument but instead he kissed me.

He still hadn't released me from his grip but moved one hand to the back of my head, I was surprisingly unresponsive. My mind kept wandering: He might not have been here now. I might have never heard his voice again. I might have never seen his smile. The thought was more unbearable than I'd imagined any emotion. He couldn't leave me, it would kill me.

He stopped and looked at me, his face a mixture of emotions – each one unreadable. "You're… _wrong_." He nodded, one hand moving to my face. "And I won't do it again."

I nodded in response, not trusting my voice. He put an arm around me and pressed the detonator. Immediately the end of the corridor burst into flames, but the Joker had timed it so that we were clear of the explosions. He lifted me into the bus and followed me to a seat.

"You know… We're playing each round with a pair of twos." He said. I looked at him but his eyes were focused on something else, as though he were looking through me. "But sooner or later, someone's going to call our bluff. Then it'll be game over."

I knew what he meant. We were living on luck but at the end of the day, no matter how skilled and careful we were, it was two of us against Batman and the whole police force. We wouldn't stop and neither would they. There was only one way this could end. Getting attached to the Joker was a dangerous game in itself, especially as he was so masochistic. Neither of us would rest if the other was locked in a cell – eventually we would die. The whole point was that we made a strong impression on Gotham first.

Death didn't bother me. Everyone dies, eventually and the time or place didn't matter to me much. But without the Joker…

"Just keep your best poker face on." I told him and he smiled in response. He didn't look back at the explosive chaos he'd just caused – his eyes were fixed ahead, no doubt going over the next part of the plan.

"You need to update me, what happens next?" I asked, wanting something else to focus on.

"Well, the engines on the ferries will fail and I'll send them a message. Oh, you can have this." He told me, taking a radio out from a bag underneath the seat.

"What's this for?"

"So you can hear what's going on."

There was a long pause as I tried to find a hidden meaning in his words. He smirked as he looked out of the window.

"Where am I going to be?"

"Outside somewhere. Hidden."

"Why?"

"Because… if this goes _wrong_ you're going to be no help if you're locked up too."

"You've planned it through though, haven't you? It's a safe plan."

"I've got the detonator and some dogs, it'll be fine."

I didn't have enough energy to argue against him so I moved closer instead and tried to make the most of every second. This was a terrible way to live – in constant fear that the person you love would be dead by the end of the night. Fear gripped me stronger than I had ever felt it in my life.

We arrived at the building. It was still under construction but had some huge windows in place already. It looked stable enough although there were some thin metal pillars propping each level up. The Joker left his men in charge of swapping clothes with the doctors and binding them up – it was chaos but he took me up to the top floor to show me where he'd be waiting. There was already a clock there and I wondered how long he'd been planning this. I wondered what other plans he had in place right now and made a mental note to remember to ask him about them tonight.

He showed me which button to press so that I'd contact only him. The plan was that I waited somewhere, a short distance away from the building and in clear view of the ferries, and update him on what was going on outside. It was a plan I hated. I already knew that given the chance I would risk my own life to save his. The decision was purely selfish; heroism had nothing to do with it. If one of us had to die, death would be a pleasant escape. Continuing without him would be much harder.

The sky was turning darker and the ferries were full, due to set off in only ten minutes. I made my way down the elevator and walked outside carefully, aware of anyone that could see me. Of course there was no one around. Mike Engel had sent a threatening video to GCN, courtesy of the Joker, and everyone was running scared. I sat on the small stone wall lining the river and lay on my stomach.

I couldn't see the Joker from here which slightly unnerved me but I knew that if it got to a stage where I needed to see him it would already be too late – the elevator was slow and the stairs were in their hundreds. I tried not to think that way though because I knew the Joker had kept me out of it for a reason and no matter what happened I should stay outside. I bit my lip nervously, knowing I probably couldn't do that. I was never very good at keeping promises to myself so I didn't even bother making one, I knew I'd break it without a seconds thought.

The lights on the ferries flashed and they stopped moving. A few moments later my radio beeped and the Joker's voice buzzed through the speaker.

"_Tonight you're all going to be part of a social experiment. Through the magic of diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate, I'm ready now to blow you all sky high. Anyone attempts to get off their boat: you all die. Each of you has a remote. Blow up the other boat. At midnight, I blow you all up. If however one of you presses the button I'll let that boat live. So, who's it going to be? Harvey Dent's most wanted scum bag collection or the sweet and innocent civilians? You choose! Oh, and you might want to decide quickly because the people on the other boat may not be quite so noble."_

"So, who do you think will press the button first?" The Joker asked, and I guessed he was only talking to me.

"Definitely the civilians. The criminals know that they're wrong but everyone else twists things around to their way of thinking. They'll try and find a reason that justifies blowing the criminals up. I think either, 'they've had their chance' or 'there are children on this boat'."

"Well that would put those men to shame. They wouldn't mind killing the guards to get to the detonator. It'd just be pathetic if they tried to be noble now."

"But you planned it so that the people left will get the blame anyway. Wait… Shit." I said through the radio. A bunch of police cars had lined up nearby and I moved to a better hiding spot, so that I could still see them but they couldn't see me.

"How long has it been? There are police everywhere, assembling on the building opposite. Batman's with them."

"What's happening?"

I moved closer. "They have snipers aiming at the clowns. It looks like Gordon and Batman are shouting. How did they find you so fast?"

The Joker hesitated. "I don't know."

"Gordon's pointed his gun at Batman… Shit, Batman's inside."

The Joker didn't reply and I was too busy watching Batman to wonder what he was doing. "I think a SWAT team has gone in."

"Good."

A few minutes later a helicopter was circling the middle of the building and a spotlight was on Batman. "They've caught Batman…"

"Already…" The Joker mumbled. I checked the time and there was only a few minutes left until midnight. Then something strange happened – I looked back at Batman and he kicked one of the SWAT people off the building and he hung there by a cord. Seconds later, the rest of them followed, one by one and Batman disappeared back inside the building.

I only had seconds to make my choice but I knew it was already made. I threw the radio into the river and ran inside the building. I pushed the button for the elevator several times but it didn't come fast enough so I decided to take the stairs. I jumped up them three at a time and my legs ached. It felt like a full minute had passed before I reached the top where I snuck inside. The Joker and Batman were nowhere to be seen but then I heard his laugh; the sound was getting fainter and fainter.

He was falling. I pushed my hands against my mouth to stifle a scream as I crept closer but Batman fired a gun and the Joker's laughter stopped, turning into a groan. Batman was pulling him back up.

Tears of relief welled in my eyes, that was the second time Batman could have let the Joker die but didn't. I owed him more than I would have thought possible – strange as he was my only enemy that mattered. As he was pulling the Joker back up a noticed a detonator on the floor a few feet behind him. I slipped off my shoes and padded forwards, picking it up silently off the floor whilst avoiding the broken glass and then pressing my body against a wall, out of sight but still only a few feet away. I focused on steadying my breathing as I clutched the detonator tightly in my hands as though it were a lifeline.

"You. You just couldn't let me go, could you?" The Joker said in a smug voice. "This is what happens when an _unstoppable_ force meets an _immovable_ object. You truly are incorruptible, aren't you? Huh? You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of… self-righteousness. And I won't kill you… because you're just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever."

"You'll be in a padded jail forever." Batman growled back. He sounded exhausted from hoisting the Joker back up.

"Maybe we could share one. You know they'll be doubling up the rate this city's inhabitants are losing their minds."

"This _city_ just showed you that it's _full_ of people, ready to believe in good." Batman retorted angrily.

"Until their spirit breaks completely. Until they take a good look at the _real_ Harvey Dent. Huh? And all the heroic things he's done. You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you? No, you need an ace in the hole. Mine's Harvey."

"What did you do?"

"I took Gotham's _white knight_ and I… brought him down to our level. It wasn't hard. You see madness, as you know… is… like _gravity_. All it takes is a little push." The Joker laughed.

Batman stood up to walk away but I stepped out in front of him, the detonator held clearly and tightly in my hand, a lead pipe I'd found on the floor in the other. He took a step backwards slightly, regarding me with annoyance. He needed to go and stop Dent. He needed to right now. Even this few seconds delay was irritating him; that was obvious and would work in my favour.

I spoke in a loud, steady voice, my eyes filled with sincerity. My finger grazed the button and his eyes flickered to it before turning back to mine. In the distance the shout of the SWAT team was getting louder.

"Let him go."

* * *

...

It's over already and you're leaving us with a cliffhanger?!

Well I planned on continuing it when the next film comes out (which I know won't be for years). If you want more Joker and you haven't already seen TheJokerBlogs on youtube then I'd recommend it. If you're really annoyed then leave a review and I may write an epilogue...

Thanks to everyone that reviewed, added it to your faves or alert list, you guys are awesome!!


	17. Epilogue

**Here's the epilogue written from Mr. J's POV. I just wanted to say a massive thank you to ALL the people who reviewed or added me or this story to the favourite/alert list. It means a lot!! Thank you! ^^ (And a special thanks to Rachel C who wrote a tonne of awesome reviews haha)  


* * *

**

Y'see, the thing about human nature is… it's so… _predictable_.

I mean, take Red for instance. When I first laid eyes on her… ha… I knew she hated her father. You can tell when a girl had a bad relationship with her father because they always _cling_ to other men. You show a girl like her an ounce of interest and… she'll be all over you.

Y'see… that's mostly… her… problem.

Now, me on the other hand? I'm never predictable. I sometimes… _lead_… people to believe that they know what I'm going to do next. But when it comes down to it, no one knows… who I really am.

Want me to prove it? Let's take a look at some facts.

I can come up with a perfect plan to get myself arrested, kill Rachel, kidnap Lau and escape without anyone suspecting a thing. _Ha_! Not only that but I _destroy_ Harvey's soul in the process.

Then I stick together what _looks_ like a plan doomed to fail. I take two ferries hostage with nothing but the _detonator_ for protection, leaving my mobile phone on so that it can easily be traced and arrange for this to take place in a building where I can't easily escape. Now a _normal_ person would think I just made too many mistakes but Red… She would have seen through it.

_So_… I had to go to the trouble of mixing up the hostages and my men, dragging a bunch of dogs up to the _top _floor and setting up a bunch of oil barrels that I never intended to blow up.

_HA HA HA_. You look… ah… confuse**d**.

People just can't be patient, can they? Gotham needs _time_. All it needs to do is just heal a tiny bit. Let people think that they're _picking _up the pieces. Nothing causes chaos more than one step _forward_ and two steps bac**k**. People think that a bright future is just within their reach and then they get… _dragged_… under.

Now you think you understand. Now you think I _planned_ to be caught.

Y'see? Humans are _so_ predictable…

No… I didn't plan to be taken to Arkham until the very en**d**. My _initial_ plan was to force Batman to kill me. That's how I _wanted_ it to be.

The thing I didn't want… The thing I… _never_… wanted… Was Re**d**.

In… about… an _hour_. She's going to come and break me out. And I'm going to tell her that I _like_ it here. That I don't want to lea**ve**. And she'll think it's because I don't… _care_… about her. Ha. Y'know… people _really_ think they know me. Hm? They think… that I can't have _feelings_ for people. That I can't hate myself for having them. That I can't _push_ her away with everything I have and then _annoy_ myself even more. They think they know me.

But sometimes I… _lead_… people to think they know what I'll do next.

But Red will do whatever I tell her too. She'll believe _whatever_ I tell her to believe. Because… I'm a man of my word.

HA HA HA HA HA.


End file.
